


Pack Animals

by catpawz



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Slow Build, Spoilers, Twin Lavellans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpawz/pseuds/catpawz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13890.html?thread=56472642#t56472642</p><p>No one counted on there being a copy of their Herald, especially not Solas. He is fascinated by the way the two of them work together, by how the Mark affects them both, and perhaps, later, he'll be fascinated by a few other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13890.html?thread=56472642#t56472642

“Herald, now is not the time for your games!” Solas watched as Cassandra scolded Falon, who was surely attempting to confuse their Seeker one way or another. From what Solas had gathered, Falon was now pretending to be his “twin brother,” Thamen. He sighed, figuring that he’d soon have to intervene. After all, they were to be traveling to the Hinterlands within the hour. Maybe Falon would wrap this up sooner than later.

However, Falon didn’t appear to be letting off at all, and nearly a quarter of an hour had passed since had started, or at least since Solas noticed him. The elf’s jokes were generally half-hearted and oddly paced, almost as if he was waiting for someone to deliver the punchline. By now he would have dropped the whole thing or broken into a fit of giggles. It almost made Solas believe that this really was Falon’s twin brother, but he knew that was impossible. The elf was wearing gloves, but Solas could feel the Fade’s energy from the mark on his palm. Obviously, that elf was Falon.

“Solas!” The singsongy voice of Falon caught him off-guard. Solas turned around quickly to see the Herald walking down the steps, grinning widely and waving at him. Solas looked to him, and then back to the elf who was still arguing with Cassandra.  “What’s wrong? I’d say it looks like you’ve seen a ghost, but you’re into ghosts, right? Or are ghosts and spirits different?” Falon stopped next to Solas, and then turned towards the shouting match between the strange elf and Cassandra. His eyes widened, and before Solas could ask him about the other elf, Falon rushed through the open gates of Haven and into the training yard.  Solas watched Falon practically tackle the elf, who might really be named Thamen, in a hug that could rival one between lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. Thamen appeared shocked for a second, before quickly hugging his supposed brother back.

“I can’t believe you’re really okay! I heard about all the Herald business or whatever, but I was sure that they still had you locked up! Did you really blow up the temple? That’s what some people are saying.” Thamen was speaking a thousand words a minute, but Falon seemed to be following perfectly.  “No, I didn’t blow up the temple, but check this out!” Falon unwrapped one of his arms from around his brother and showed him the Mark. “I got this after I stepped out of a rift, they said! It’s super cool, and if I stick it at rifts, they close! Oh it was really weird. Ya know the Breach? I kinda made it stop growing or something, but we had to fight this huge demon and-”   “Herald.” Cassandra, who had been silent, likely due to surprise, up to this point, spoke up, “you never mentioned that you had any siblings, let alone that they’d be coming here.”   Falon turned to Cassandra “I had no idea that Thamen was coming!” He looked back to his brother, “how long are you staying? We can totally delay the Hinterlands trip, no problem.”  “That is-” Cassandra was cut off.  “The clan said I could join the Inquisition, if I wanted.”  “You’re kidding!” Falon pulled his brother into a hug yet again, “so you can come with us to the Hinterlands! I didn’t get a chance to look around while I was on my way to the Conclave, but I heard that there are fifty bears per hill.”

“I’m sure that your brother would much prefer to-” And again, the twins ignored the fact that Cassandra was speaking.  “Can I come? Really?” Thamen’s eyes widened in glee. “That’d be great!”  “Lavellan.” Cassandra spoke up, and both elves turned to her in unison, finally deciding to pay attention to what she had to say.  “Herald,” she corrected, and Falon’s eyebrows rose in acknowledgment, “what we are doing in the Hinterlands is far from ‘looking around’. We are going to see what we can do about the mages’ and templars’ fighting, and then acquire agents in the area.”

“That’s not a problem,” Thamen was the one who responded. “It’ll be fun! Come on, you have to let me come!” Cassandra didn’t have much say in who came with the Herald on this trip, it seemed obvious that he’d bring her, Solas, and Varric, but the twins were giving her puppy-dog eyes as if her opinion would make or break their plans.

“Please? I promise, we won’t get into any trouble!” Falon stuck out his bottom lip.

“I… suppose, if you do not distract each other.” It was already well known around Haven that Falon was a bit of a troublemaker, and surely the addition of another would only make things worse.  “Yes!” The two of them practically glowed in excitement, and Falon gripped his brother’s arm, “come on, let’s go get the things you’ll need!”   The two of them rushed back through Haven’s gates, straight past Solas, who was watching them curiously. Odd, how he felt the Fade’s energy from Thamen, despite the fact that he supposedly didn’t have a mark as his brother did. Solas began to theorize what that could mean, and what kind of relationship the two of them must have for the Mark to affect them both. Surely the addition of Thamen would lead to interesting developments in the power of the Mark, or perhaps Thamen would have some control over the rifts himself. Nevertheless, he was now looking forward to the Hinterlands trip more than he originally was.

* * *

Much to Solas’s disappointment, the trip had to be delayed an extra two days so that the Inquisition could gather extra rations and improve Thamen’s armor and weapons so that he would be fit to travel. Many suggested that Thamen simply join the Herald on the next trip, but Falon refused to be separated from his twin again.

Solas was content to spend today outside relaxing in the brisk winter air, until he noticed that the twins were looking about the small houses nearby. Perhaps now would be a good time to ask them if they felt the Mark’s energy differently now that they were together, or if Thamen had developed any odd magical abilities since the explosion. Both of the twins were mages, though Falon appeared to favor using a large great sword he had picked up after falling off a bridge. He used his magic to strengthen himself, increasing his resistance to attacks and channeling his magic through his weapon. Thamen came carrying two daggers, and Solas assumed that he used them the same way.

“The Chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all.” Solas was going to continue, but was cut off when the twins (who appeared quite fond of not waiting until their conversation partner was finished speaking) replied.

“You think we could get a horse? Like one of those ‘shining steeds’ you hear about in children’s stories.” Falon grinned at the idea.

“Maybe we could get a unicorn!” Thamen turned to his brother, grinning at him as if he had already planned out exactly where they’d find such a creature, and how they would obtain it.  “I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they’re extinct.” The twins smiled even wider at that idea, and Solas couldn’t help but feel happy to have their approval. “Joke as you two will, posturing is necessary.”  For a moment, questions about the Mark were pushed aside, and Solas stepped towards the stone wall to look over the gate surrounding Haven. “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” He heard the crunching of snow behind him as both twins settled on both of his sides, one leaning against the stone wall on his left while the other stood to his right.

“Every great war has its heros,” Solas continued, “I’m just curious what kind you two will be.”

“Ruins and battlefields?” The elf to his right questioned. Solas couldn’t tell which one was which. He noted that they were both wearing gloves now.

“Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history, every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

“What, and nothing eats you while you sleep?” The one to his left cocked his head, genuine curiosity in his eyes. Perhaps, despite their childish behavior, they were more studious than they let on.

“I do set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.”  “That’s crazy.” The elf to his left said, eyes wide.  “Crazy impressive,” the elf to his right countered. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing stuff like that.”

“Thank you,” Solas felt the warmth from before rekindle. Truly, these two were not as bad as they seemed. Solas was interested in speaking to them about the Fade and spirits more in the future already. “It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything.”  The two stared at him wistfully, and Solas continued, “I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed.”

“What, you’re not planning on leaving, are you?” The wistful look dropped into one of concern.

“You can’t leave, Solas, we’ve only been here, like, three days!”

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have divine powers protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you two understand my caution.” He wasn’t actually sure if Thamen, whichever one Thamen was, actually had any powers given to him by the Mark, but the fact that he was Falon’s twin brother alone probably made it so he was safe.

“We don’t actually use a lot of magic like you. They probably wouldn’t bother us anyway.”

“But don’t worry, we won’t let anyone hurt you or take you to the Circle!”

“How would you stop them?” If he knew the twins, ‘stopping’ Templars would likely involve putting themselves at the center of something horrible.

“In any way we could!”

“Yeah, Falon could blow up another temple or something so they’d chase us instead!”  The one to his left, who he now knew was Falon, frowned, “I told you, I didn’t blow it up!”  “Sure,” Thamen rolled his eyes.

Let it never be said that Solas didn’t already know the twins well. Of course they’d suggest that.

“Er, thank you,” he nodded his head, and changed the subject. “For now, let us hope either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach.” With another nod of his head, he turned around and walked away from the twins, but they didn’t seem content to leave him alone quite yet.

“Why are you helping the Inquisition?” Thamen suddenly asked.

They spent hours talking about different things, like ancient elves and the Fade, the twins occasionally slipping what sounded like flirtations, but Solas brushed them all off. They were young, or perhaps just acted like it, and Solas remembered his own youth all too well. Flirting with everything in sight just seemed to be a habit for boys their age, as annoying and often disgusting habit as it was.

Solas found he didn’t really mind it, however. In fact, he almost liked it. He responded to their flirts as if they were jokes, and the twins would smile and give each other looks that he couldn’t quite understand the meaning to, but he figured them to be positive nonetheless.

He could only imagine how Cassandra would respond to their flirting. It was a wonder that she didn’t cleave one of them in half already.

Eventually, the twins dismissed themselves and went off to talk to Varric. Solas watched them for a moment from his location, before deciding that he would find some place quiet for him to sleep. The Hero of Ferelden had been here, he knew, but he never had a chance to witness her rescue of Brother Genitivi, for before there was no way to sleep safely near the Chantry with all the villagers.

On his way, he thought about the twins, and the way they had promised to protect him. They really were… fascinating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually super excited for this one. If you read the prompt, there are a lot of things to still be added, like smut and maybe a bit of actual romance??? Maybe, cause there really wasn't any in the canon Solas romance. 
> 
> I'll try to keep from writing too many conversations word per word, I'll probably only do it if there are romance options, but since I've never actually romanced Solas I can't tell you how many conversations that is off the top of my head. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll be good at keeping this updated frequently! At the moment, the plan is to update once a week, every Saturday, but I might do it more or less often depending on how excited I am by a chapter or if I'm busy or whatever. We'll see.


	2. Chapter 2

The journey to the Hinterlands proved to be relatively uneventful. The twins behaved themselves well enough, not playing any pranks on their fellow travelers but often saying the strangest things. Solas remembered back when the twins had asked him if he had any more tales from the Fade, beyond the ones he had already shared.

“Are you sure you wish to hear more? I’m not sure how much you'd enjoy hearing about the other memories I've encountered.” The last time he shared his stories, the twins seemed very interested, but he had only told them of the most exciting ones, mostly memories of wars. They didn't strike him as people who'd enjoy listening to the history behind ancient ruins.

“I’m always a slut for Fade memories,” Falon had responded, probably a bit louder than necessary. Thamen snorted, and Solas rose his eyebrows, but shared his stories anyway.

Beyond that, Solas had spoken to them about the Dalish. Most Dalish that he had met were stubborn and set in their beliefs, but the twins were much more openminded to Solas’s opinions and knowledge on ancient elves and how the Dalish could better conduct themselves. He learned afterwards that the twins had been outcasts of their own clan, mostly because of their disinterest in bonding and their radical opinions on the Pantheon. Solas was hardly shocked to find that they didn’t wish to bond with any of the women in their clan. They didn’t give him a specific reason why, but he could imagine that, with their personality, being in a committed relationship would bore them.

He was shocked, however, when he learned that they seemed to prefer Fen’Harel out of all the gods in the Pantheon. They told him that they had asked their Keeper for vallaslin to honor the Dread Wolf, and were disappointed to find that no such design existed. Instead the both of them were given vallaslin based off of Elgar’nan, colored a deep blue that contrasted with their olive skin.

They told him about how, when they were younger, they would search the god out, watching the wolves hunt around their clan and pretending they could sense when the god was near. They said they would give him offerings, which consisted of crudely made necklaces and extra food they had from their last meal. Solas tried to remember if he had ever found anything close to what they described, but when he was in the form of Fen'Harel, he was much more prone to instinctual behavior. If he had found a necklace, he would have ignored it. The food was a different matter, but he couldn’t recall smelling the twins on any of his meals. 

He wasn’t sure why he cared if he had found something they left for him. He decided that he simply was fond of the idea because it was a nice change of pace from constantly being treated as a villain by the Dalish. 

Eventually, they arrived in the Hinterlands. Solas looked about their first camp while the twins listened to Scout Harding’s assessment of the area and the fighting going on. They were only resting for a few moments when the twins, who could hardly stay in one place for long, pulled him, Varric, and Cassandra away from the camp and down the path towards the Crossroads. 

“I don’t wanna see a Chantry lady,” Thamen complained.

“We have to, though,” Falon responded, “so the Chantry will leave the Inquisition alone.”

The walk to the Crossroads didn’t take too long, but as soon as they arrived, they were faced with a wave of Templars, followed by a wave of rebel mages. Solas called out to the mages, trying to convince them that they were no threat, but it didn’t work in the least. He honestly wasn’t sure what he was expecting, it hadn't worked with the Templars either.

The threat was cleared eventually, and Solas was all the more weary for it. He hadn’t had a chance to rest since they left Haven. He leaned on his staff and watched as the twins looked through the dropped pouches of the mages and templars, occasionally pulling out sovereigns and gems. He noticed that Thamen was tearing off any interesting fabrics from their clothing, and sighed. They were very strange indeed. 

Once they decided that they had gathered their fill, they told him and their other companions to rest while they went to speak with Mother Giselle. Cassandra suggested that only one of them go, Falon was the only one who was invited to speak with her, but they refused to separate, even if it meant they’d only be apart for a few minutes.

Those few minutes passed, and Solas took the chance to catch his breath and watch the soldiers as they cleared the bodies and put up signs declaring that this town was protected by the Inquisition. The twins returned, and shared the information they had gathered with Cassandra, who nodded and told them that their next move should be to help the refugees in the area.

The five of them went to Corporal Vale and he directed them to a few people who needed their help. The rest of the day was spent talking to a hunter, Recruit Whittle, and a nervous elven man worried for his wife.

Finally they returned to camp. From what Solas gathered, they would not be returning to Haven now, but instead would be helping the people in the area and would then go to Val Royeaux to speak with more Chantry officials. 

During their Hinterlands trip, they picked up a great many more odd jobs and things to do than they originally planned, and had to extend their stay a few days longer. Each day was filled to the brim with traveling the country side and climbing hills, occasionally battling bears and overly-equipped bandits. It turned out that multiple rifts had opened up in the area, and Solas finally had a chance to see how closing them would work with both of the twins now here.

There was a rift in the river near the Redcliffe farms. They had passed it once on their way to clear out a den of wolves, but had managed to avoid it then. There was no avoiding it this time, however, especially considering the twins were running right towards it. Granted, Thamen was at least being somewhat stealthy about his charging, while Falon was yelling and swinging his greatsword around, hacking into the nearest despair demon.

Solas, Cassandra, and Varric really had no choice but to join in, and while Solas did what he could to focus on the fighting, he couldn’t help but give the occasional glance to the twins, attempting to find out exactly how the two of them being together affected the power of the mark.  During the fight, Solas noticed that Falon’s mark seemed to be glowing even more than usual. He was wearing gloves, but even so, Solas could see the green glow underneath the leather.

Finally, after a hard won fight, the demons were defeated, and Falon was able to close the rift. It only took a few seconds, Solas noted, unlike before. It never took a particularly long time, but the amount of time it did take seemed to have been cut in half. This was likely due to Thamen’s presence, he decided.

The rift closed, leaving the five of them all panting and mostly soaked through with water. The twin’s black hair was falling out of the ponytails the both of them wore, Varric was busy brushing ice off his arm, revealing torn cloth and bright red skin, and Cassandra was leaning against one of the rocky walls, trying to catch her breath.

“What were the two of you thinking, charging in without any warning like that!” Cassandra was the first one to speak, panting between words.

“Thamen said…” Falon panted, “Thamen said that this rift was more dangerous than the others in the area!”

“It was attracting stronger demons, the farmers could have been killed if they came too close.”

“And how did you know this, exactly?” Solas leaned on his staff for support. The only response he got was a shrug from Thamen.

“He was right, that’s what matters,” Varric had moved out of the stream and was attempting to dislodge some of the water from one of his boots.

“Just… just don’t go running in like that again,” Cassandra sighed. “We are here to protect you, and we cannot do that if you throw yourself into danger!”

The both of them muttered a quiet “sorry Cassandra,” too tired to argue or come up with something witty.

Fortunately for all of them, a camp was nearby. Varic’s frostnip was treated, as was a large, but thankfully not deep, gash to Falon’s shoulder. Solas watched from a distance as they wrapped the wound. Thamen was sitting next to his brother, rubbing his own shoulder despite the fact that he hadn’t been injured.

“Are you alright, Lavellan?” Solas stepped forward.

“Fine,” both of them responded in unison, and Solas sighed. He’d ask why Thamen was rubbing his shoulder as if it was injured later, perhaps when he was alone. _If_ he was ever alone, that is.

“Solas?” Falon spoke up once the healer was finished wrapping the wound on his shoulder. “You never finished that one story, about the spirit!”

“Oh yeah!” Thamen suddenly grinned, “the one in the village!”

“Perhaps another time, I’ll-” Solas was exhausted. The idea of spending time in the Fade was much more attractive than the idea of recounting spent time in it.

“No, no, finish it now!” 

“Come on! Please?” They were giving him puppy-dog eyes, the same look they gave Cassandra back in Haven, before they left. Solas wondered if that ever worked for them in the past. It was working well enough now.

“I suppose, if you really wish to hear it.” Solas sighed and sat down on the ground across from the twins, who beamed and quickly moved themselves closer to him. They were sitting much closer than was probably necessary. If Falon was any closer, he’d be in Solas’s lap, and if Thamen was leaning against him any more, they might of fused into one. Solas cleared his throat, though they didn’t move away at all. He decided they were only sitting like they were, draping themselves over him, because they wanted something to rest on. He let their close proximity go, and picked up his story where he had left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, is this chapter boring or what? Sorry. I needed a way to explain some things about the twins, like appearances and how their clan viewed them and how they dealt with rifts and... other stuff, IDK. 
> 
> Things should start actually picking up once they get to Skyhold and the romance (and porn) comes around.


	3. Chapter 3

Solas had heard many things about Val Royeaux, but he had never been. Of course, it would be foolish to go there, to the home of the Chantry, as an apostate. The real thing was lacking compared to the countless tales, but perhaps that was simply because the city was still mourning the loss of their Divine. 

“Did you see the look on that woman’s face?” Thamen giggled and watched as a frightened woman scampered off.

“Not with that weird mask on,” Falon giggled back. “Why are they all wearing masks?”

A scout ran up shortly after the woman ran off. She explained, mostly to Cassandra, that the Chantry mothers were waiting for them all, however they waited alongside a great many templars. The scout explained that the templars had returned to Val Royeaux to protect it from the Inquisition, an idea which almost had Solas rolling his eyes.

The templars had gathered with the Chantry mothers on the other side of the market. The group walked around the fountain and Falon, alongside Cassandra, stepped forward, trying to maneuver himself through the loosely-packed crowd to the front of the small platform, where a Chantry mother was preaching.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!”

“Ugh,” Thamen, who had stayed behind with Solas and Varric, groaned and rolled his head back in boredom. “This is going to take a while, isn’t it? When do we get to kill things again?”

“Being the Herald of Andraste does not simply mean traipsing around the wilderness and shoving your daggers into anything that moves,” Solas explained quietly, to which Thamen responded, “but _I’m_ not the Herald, Falon is. And besides, most things don’t mind when I shove my _dagger_ into them.”

Now it was Solas’s turn to groan, “that’s not what I mea-” He was cut off when Thamen quickly threw his hand over Solas’s mouth.

“Wait, shh, what did she say about elves? What did you say about elves!?” Thamen was shouting now, standing on his toes so that he’d be able to see over the heads of the humans in the crowd. 

Solas yanked Thamen’s hand away from his mouth and pulled him back, “keep quiet!”

“She said that the Maker wouldn’t send an elf in our hour of need.” Varric, who seemed thoroughly amused by Thamen’s anger, happily explained.

“What! Hey, lady! The Maker didn’t just send one elf in your hour of need, he sent fuckin’-… Oh, she’s unconscious.” 

Solas quickly turned his attention away from Thamen, who was mercifully silent now, to what was going on near the front of the crowd. Thamen was correct, the Chantry mother who was speaking had fallen unconscious, and a much larger group of templars had arrived. They were speaking with Cassandra now, with Falon furrowing his eyebrows behind her.

“Templars! Many of your own have already joined us, so why don’t you stop punching old ladies and follow suit?” Falon spoke up loudly, puffing out his chest. If he had left out the part about punching old ladies, Solas might have been impressed at how civil he was being.

The templars continued on with their ranting, the Lord Seeker talking about how little the Inquisition had shown him, and how the templars deserved independence of their own. It was at this point, once the crowd started to disperse, that Solas, Varric, and Thamen joined Cassandra and Falon.

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Varric muttered with a shrug.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Cassandra appeared to be in shock over what had just happened. Solas understood why Cassandra would feel that way, having spent most of her life trusting the templars completely, though personally he was shocked something like this hadn’t happened earlier.

After a short explanation by Cassandra about how Lord Seeker Lucius was _suppose_ to be acting, Falon sighed, “whatever, let’s just go see the mages.”

“You think the mages give long, boring speeches too?” Thamen asked Solas, who shot him a look and didn’t respond.

“I wouldn’t write them off so quickly. There must be those in the Order who see what he’s become.” Cassandra said with a soft sigh, watching as the last of the Templars left the city. “Either way, we should first return to Haven and inform the others. But before we do that…”

Cassandra’s gaze turned towards Thamen, “you must learn to keep your mouth shut! It is a miracle that everyone was paying attention to the templars! If you are unable to keep quiet while we are conducting important business, you will have to stay back at Haven.”

“Sorry Cassandra,” Thamen lowered his head. Cassandra gave an approving nod, and set off towards the bridge. Solas made to follow her, but was grabbed by the arm.

“I heard what Thamen said, about the daggers?” Solas turned around to see that it was Falon who had grabbed him, and that the elf had an uncharacteristically serious expression. “I just want to let you know, daggers might be graceful, but a greatsword is a whole lot bigger.” The serious expression cracked into a grin, and Falon rushed to catch up with Cassandra before Solas could say anything.

* * *

Of course, before they even got to the bridge they were faced with with an arrow shooting from seemingly no where, and an invitation to a salon from an enchanter from the Imperial court. The arrow’s message included a crude drawing of where the group could find the mentioned “red things” around Val Royeaux, and the twins insisted that they go searching now. This led to a long walk around the city trying to find said “red things” since the map was absolutely no help.

It really was only an hour, maybe even shorter, but Solas was already growing weary of the frightened looks from the nobles. Finally, thankfully, they were heading over the bridge, back to Haven to discuss everything that had happened here, and that’s when they were stopped again.

“If I might have a moment of your time?” A voice sounded from behind them. Falon, who appeared to be equally as annoyed with how long they’ve been in the city as Solas was, groaned softly and turned around.

“Who’s she?” Thamen whispered to Falon, who shrugged and looked back at his brother. Cassandra answered their question, though the answer was not directed at them.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

“Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?” Solas stepped forward, honestly shocked to find that Fiona would have the guts to step foot in this city, especially so soon after the templars had arrived. Was she aware that the templars had come at all?

“I had heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes.” Falon pushed Thamen forward and then quickly hid his marked hand behind his back. Thamen, who clearly did not appreciate being used as a replacement, scowled, but straightened his expression when Cassandra nudged him forcefully. Solas was only aware that it was Thamen being presented as the Herald because he saw Falon hide his hand, it seemed that Cassandra was none the wiser.

“If it’s help with the Breach you seek, perhaps my people are the wiser option.”

“Uhh,” Thamen glanced back at Falon urgently, “right. Yes, mages. Excellent idea. Um… so the mages are willing to help?”

“We are willing to discuss it at least,” Fiona responded, unbothered by how awkwardly Thamen was acting. “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my Lord Herald.”

“And, um, an awe-review to you too,” Thamen answered. 

Cassandra sighed, “come. Let us return to Haven.” As soon as she turned around, Thamen turned to Falon and pushed roughly on his shoulder.

“Way to be a great leader, Lord Herald, getting others to do your dirty work,” Thamen hissed quietly.

Falon snorted, “that was great! Hah! ‘Awe-review’ is what you said? Oh man, I need to get you to deal with this stuff more often for me!” 

“You realize,” Solas stepped next to the two of them, “that if you present Thamen as the Herald, they will all think it is you, Falon. You will have to take credit for everything that he does.”

“What? Shit, I didn’t think about that!” Falon’s eyes widened in time with Thamen’s, though Thamen had a much more joyous expression on his face.

“Ohh, I didn’t think of that either! No way, you really should let me do the talking more often, brother.”

“Absolutely not! I’m going to cut the palms out of all of your gloves so people see you don’t have a mark!”

“I’ll just keep my hands behind my back. Worked well enough for you.”

“Herald!” Cassandra called from further down the bridge, “we must report what has happened, quickly.”

“Coming, Cassandra,” they yelled in unison, and quickly rushed forward.

* * *

Word of the fact that the Herald had a twin was just now starting to spread. The twins seemed disappointed by this fact, as it was becoming harder and harder for them to switch places or pull various pranks.

It also proved to be a problem, however, with invitations. Most invitations were written out before people became aware of Thamen, and so all of them called for Falon alone. Falon, who downright refused to be separated from Thamen, was prone to throwing fits if this was the case. It made making allies extremely difficult, not to mention obnoxious.

Fortunately for the twins, most people were willing to allow one extra person in if the Herald requested they joined, though seeing two Heralds of Andraste still proved to be a shock.

Solas remembered how shocked Sera was to learn that not only was the Herald an elf, but there were two. He remembered Blackwall rubbing his eyes and muttering something about all the bandits getting to his head. He remembered the Iron Bull laughing and saying something about wanting to join the Inquisition twice as much now. Solas was not allowed into Vivenne’s salon, but he had been told that Vivienne acted as if she expected there to be two, and that it was the other party guests who were shocked.

With all the new alliances, Solas was not surprised to see the twin’s inner circle grow. They only ever took out two or three members on trips, but when they were at Haven, Solas started seeing less and less of them as they spread their time out to new members. 

Seeing them speak with Iron Bull, watching as their eyes widened in fascination as he told them about the day-to-day life of the Qunari, it sparked something in Solas, something he couldn’t quite understand. He would never admit to feeling jealous, what was there to be jealous of? He was quite aware of the twin’s fascination with just about everything, it only made sense that they’d wish to hear more of something they had been sheltered from.

He would have to remind Bull, however, to not speak of the Qun as if it was so great. Solas worried for the twins’ safety, that he’d admit to, and he knew that if the twins decided to join the Qun under any circumstance, they’d never survive. 

But he quickly brushed those thoughts off. The twins would never do such a thing as join the Qun, not when they were aware of how little individuality they’d be allowed to have. Solas wasn’t even sure why he was worried about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is not beta-read, be warned. I read over it once, but I was a bit excited about finally updating this story, it's likely I could have missed something! Do tell me if you see any things that need editing.

The Storm Coast was just as wet as Solas remembered, maybe even more so. Rain poured endlessly on Herald and his group, soaking their clothes through and making it so the mood was miserable all around. 

Thamen and Falon seemed to be doing what they could to keep spirits high, to the point where Solas was sure that they were legitimately excited about being out here. It was a fool’s errand, however. On top of the rain, an entire patrol of Inquisition soldiers had been found dead, and packs of hostile mabari seemed to be around every corner. The group was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, even Sera was quiet. Solas was a fan of dogs once. He’d rather not think about how many times he had been bitten.

“Solas!” Thamen bounded through the group to the back while Falon continued to lead them forward, attempting to start another traveling song it seemed. “Come on, quit your frowning! It could be worse.”

“How so,” Solas snapped. He hadn’t meant for his tone to be so aggressive. Fortunately, Thamen hardly seemed to notice.

“I dunno, uh… Oh, dead! We could very well be dead. Then who’d be left to save the world?” 

“True enough,” Solas managed to keep his tone in check this time, though he could hardly pretend to be at all cheerful. 

“Um,” Thamen went quite for a moment, pondering for quite some time what he should say. “Oh, I have an idea! The Veil. You love talking about the Veil, and no one ever listens to you." 

“What?”

“So yeah! Go on, tell me something interesting,” Thamen grinned wide, seemingly very proud of his idea. Solas had half a mind to tell him that they could hold this conversation at another time, after the mercenaries had been dealt with perhaps, but there was a sincere shimmer of curiosity in Thamen’s eyes, and Solas could hardly not agree to such a request.

Solas sighed, and turned his attention forward, “what do you wish to know?”

“How would magic be affected if the Veil didn’t exist?”

“There is no way to know for sure,” Solas answered, “though one can theorize that mages would be much more frequently found amongst human, elves, and qunari, potentially even among dwarves, and they’d have a greater amount of power, with the Fade so easily in reach.”

“That’d drive the Chantry crazy, having to deal with even more, powerful mages,” Thamen chuckled lightly. “Or maybe the mages would have enough power to break free from the Chantry?”

“Perhaps.” 

“You’re into that, right? The idea of mages being free?” 

“They have long since earned their freedom. Even if they were not to receive it completely, at the very least it would do mages good to not be so heavily guarded and held down, or taught that they are at risk simply because of who they are no matter what they do.”

“Huh,” Thamen thought for a moment. “Yeah that makes sense. You know, the Inquisition might try to get the mage’s help in closing the Breach?”

“And Cassandra and Cullen have no qualms against this,” Solas turned his head back to Thamen.

“Well they do, yeah,” Thamen paused, “but I think Falon is doing a good job of convincing them! He’s a pretty convincing guy. And besides, he’s the Herald. They kinda have to go along with what he says.”

“I wish him the best of luck. I don’t believe Cullen nor Cassandra will step down and simply allow him to go to the mages.”

“You and me both. Okay, next ques- Oh, hey!” Thamen pointed at the small fort in the distance. “That’s the mercenaries’ fort! We’re almost there! Alright, we’ll have to finish this after we absolutely _destroy_ them!”

“Falon has the Mercy’s Crest, we will simply be dueling the leader,” Solas reminded him.

“Oh, right,” Thamen pouted for a second before shaking it off. “Well, at least we’ll get to fight something that isn’t a dog. See you on the other side, then!”  

And with that, Thamen darted off towards his brother’s side once more, eagerly discussing battle tactics. Solas couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips at almost child-like excitement on Thamen’s face, despite the grave circumstances and the fact that he was excited about an upcoming battle after having fought a good portion of the day already.

* * *

 Solas later learned that he should not have doubted Falon’s abilities to convince others to, at the very least, tolerate his decision to go to the mage. They were on their way to Redcliffe castle now, hoping to distract the Magister for as long as possible, so that the Inquisition’s scouts could make it through the secret entrance with as little trouble as possible.

Their group consisted of him, the twins, Iron Bull, and a curious mage named Dorian who had recently showed up at Haven for the sole purpose of helping them with Alexius, it seemed, though Dorian insisted on hanging behind until the time was right. The twins were unhappy with this plan, they seemed very keen on speaking with Dorian for as long as possible before they would have to focus on the mission at hand.

The twins had taken a shining to Dorian almost as soon as he spoke to them for the first time in Redcliffe’s chantry. In fact, Solas was sure that the only thing that was between the twins desire to attach themselves to Dorian and them actually doing it was the fact that the Fade rift. Solas figured they’d find some sort of solace in one another, both being outcasts of their homelands (though, Dorian always preferred to think himself a martyr over an outcast).

It did not take much convincing to make the man who was to announce them willing to let Solas, Iron Bull, and Thamen in alongside Falon, but Solas had his theories that it was simply because it would only be a minor inconvenience to kill them all alongside the Herald, which they surely planned to do if Falon’s advisors knew anything. Falon led the three of them up the staircase and to the throne, where Alexius greeted him fondly after they were announced. He seemed less thrilled upon seeing Falon’s followers, but said nothing, at least not directly.

“Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” Fiona walked into the throne room suddenly then.

“Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives,” Alexius replied, and then quickly turned his attention away from her, and back to Falon.

Solas felt a wave of relief when Falon responded, “she probably knows better than you what her followers want. She can be a guest of the Inquisition.” Alexius frowned, but it only lasted for a moment.

“Thank you,” Fiona bowed her head towards the Herald. To the side, Solas could hear Iron Bull chuckling over something Thamen had said, something about the magister simply oozing with trust. While Solas agreed with what he said, he shot Thamen a warning glare anyway. Now wasn’t the time for jokes.

“Back to business then,” Alexius sauntered back over to the throne and sat. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”  

“Ah! Right, of course,” Falon smiled casually, “unfortunately, the Inquisition has no intention of offering you anything in exchange for the mages’ help.”

“I beg your pardon?” A look of anger crossed the magister’s face, but it was quelled, if only for a moment, when his son spoke up.

“He knows everything, father.”

“Felix, what have you done?” Alexius’s tone was stern, but there was a hint of unmistakeable fear behind it.

“You’ve gone crazy with this whole Vena-whatevers cult. Felix was starting to worry, and with good reason,” Falon gestured wildly while attempting to remember the name of the Tevinter supremacist group, before making a face and deciding not to bother after throwing his arms up.

“Do you really think you can turn my son against me?” Alexius stood up, the anger from before nearing full boil once again, “you walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark, a gift you don’t even understand, and think you’re in control.” He paused for a moment, and the anger faded into something more akin to disdain, “you’re nothing but a mistake.”

“What, a mistake? You think a mistake would have _this_?” On the other hand, Falon seemed to be getting quite a bit worked up over the matter, his anger only continuing to grow. He was snarling slightly, and thrust his marked hand towards Alexius.

Alexius made a face at Falon’s behavior, “it belongs to your betters. You wouldn’t even begin to understand its power.”

Fortunately, before Falon could respond with something even more likely to ruin the reputation of the Inquisition, Felix stepped forward and pleaded, “father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds like exactly the sort of villainous cliche everyone expects us to be,” a voice from behind called out, but before Solas could turn and identify it, Alexius did so for him.

“Dorian,” he looked grave, and his voice echoed his expression. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down.” The grave expression faded, and Alexius’s zealousness returned, “the Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

“Sounds like something a _crazy_ person would say!” Falon pointed accusingly at Alexius, who seemed keen on ignoring him.

“Soon, the Elder One will become a god.” Alexius straightened his back, “he will make the world bow to mage’s once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

“You can’t involve my people in this!” Fiona frantically stepped forward.

“Alexius… this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?” Dorian almost sounded betrayed. 

“Stop it, Father! Give up the Venatori, let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

Alexius turned to his son quickly, eyes wide, “no! It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you.”

“Save me?” 

“There is a way. The Elder One promised,” his attention turned to Falon, “if I undo the mistake at the Temple…” 

“Who are you calling a mistake?” Falon took a threatening step forward, held back by Dorian.

“I’m going to die. You need to accept that.” 

Alexius either didn’t hear or didn’t care to listen to what his son said, “seize them, Venatori. The Elder One demands this man’s life.” 

Now, arrows and daggers starting flying in quick succession. Guards dropped left and right, much to the magister’s shock and horror, and were quickly replaced by the Inquisition agents.

“HaHA!” Falon’s grin returned once more, “your men are dead! What are you going to do now?” 

Alexius stepped back in disbelief, before finally hissing out, “you, are a mistake! You should never have existed!” A green light started to shimmer from Alexius’s hand. Solas’s eyes widened in realization of what could very well be happening, but before he could react, Dorian stepped forward.

“No!” The mage shouted, casting a spell at the magister, stunning him briefly. It was not enough to stop the spell he had already casted, however. There was a blinding green light, and a huge black cloud, covering them all in absolute darkness.

* * *

Solas wasn’t sure how long he spent counting and recounting the stone blocks that made up his cell. Time seemed to pass without meaning anymore, slowly ticking by second after second, hour after hour, until the day had passed, or so Solas assumed. There was no telling how much damage the chaos of this Elder One caused, for all Solas knew, night and day could have ceased to exist. 

The sounds of footsteps pulled him away from his meager task. “Who’s there?” He called out to the empty room before his cell. The jailers only came twice a day, once in the morning and once at night, to deliver food. They had only come to deliver his breakfast what seemed like an hour ago, had an entire day passed already?

“Solas?” Falon’s voice echoed back to him, and he tensed for a moment. Varric had warned him about this, hadn’t he? About the effects of red lyrium on the mind, how you slowly started to hear things. Solas had been wondering when the worse of the effects would set in. Hadn’t Varric said it would be singing someone who was infected would hear?

“Holy shit, you too?” Then, Falon stepped into his line of sight, eyes wide in complete shock. Behind him, Iron Bull, who seemed similarly affected by red lyrium as Solas, and Dorian appeared. 

Solas stood stunned for a while Falon frantically worked the lock open, staring at the elf in front of him. Was this a trick of the mind? After all, Alexius had killed Falon and Dorian. “You’re alive? We saw you die!”

“The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time. We just got here, so to speak,” Dorian explained as Solas stepped out, looking between him and Falon. This had to be an illusion, though he was slowly becoming convinced that the men before him were truly there

“Can you reverse the process?” Solas could feel his heart rate quickening in excitement at the possibility that this was real, that Falon could go back and reverse everything. If none of this were to ever happen… the idea it could actually work was absolutely mind blowing, something Solas only ever have dreamed of. “You could return and obviate the events of the last year, it may not be too late!” 

“Wait, you already get what’s going on? It took Dorian, like, five minutes to explain it to me,” Falon looked down in confusion, brows furrowed as if he was still trying to process any of this. Unfortunately, he hardly had the time.

“You would think such understanding would stop me from making terrible mistakes. You would be wrong,” Solas sighed. “But you know nothing of this world. It is far worse than you understand. Alexius served a master, the Elder One. He reigns now, unchallenged. His minions assassinated Empress Celene and used the chaos to invade the South. This Elder One commands an army of demons. After you stop Alexius, you must be prepared.”

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down, what?” Falon’s look of confusion changed to one of distress, “Listen, Solas, can you please just come with us and help?” 

“…if there is any hope, any way to save them, my life is yours. This world is an abomination, it must never come to pass,” Solas decided that he would explain the circumstances of the last year to Falon later, if they found the time.

Right now, Falon’s main concern seemed to be getting Solas into armor and finding him a proper weapon. Whilst they searched, Falon explained how they ran across Fiona, who told them that a year had passed and explained to them the horrible nature of the red lyrium. It had been growing out of her body, Falon recalled with a shudder. He also explained how they found Iron Bull in a similar state as Solas, but fortunately the both of them were still intact.

“And what of Thamen?” Solas asked, and Falon’s face fell.

“We’ll find him, I’m sure. He has to be around here somewhere.” Solas could hear the worry in Falon’s voice, the doubt, and while there was little he could do now to comfort the Herald, considering their time limitations, he placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded sympathetically. He himself had heard no news of Thamen’s whereabouts or condition, though he had his concerns.

“We’ll have to go up,” Solas announced once he was properly outfitted and they were on their way again. “I heard the guards saying that Alexius had barricaded himself in the throne room. 

“Let’s get moving then,” Bull responded with a roll of his shoulders, clearly eager to get his revenge against the magister who imprisoned him for so long, or perhaps to get his revenge simply because Alexius was a magister at all.

“We have to find Thamen first,” Falon stated, and then added after a pause, “and Leliana. Fiona told me that she’s still alive.”

The maze of the dungeons wasn’t normally too difficult to navigate, but it was made worse when you were trying to remember where you had and hadn’t been. Everything looked near exactly the same, Solas was sure they had already looked through these cells, but Falon, determined as ever, didn’t seem to care.

“Falon, we must keep moving,” Solas heard Dorian whisper. “If Thamen isn’t down here, maybe they’re keeping him near your spymaster.” Falon responded only with an irritated grunt, but after a moment, he nodded.

They made their way out of the dungeons, Falon attempting to subtly look into open doors they passed, though was clearly too frantic to do a good job of hiding it. It wasn’t like he was very sneaky anyway.

Solas would admit, he, too, was very much concerned for Thamen, but he knew that whatever state Thamen was in, it wouldn’t be a good one. Odds were, the Venatori mistook him for Falon, the Herald, and likely killed him after his capture without even bothering to see if he had the mark. He wouldn’t be sharing his thoughts with Falon, he decided, their Herald would not take the idea well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr! It's Dragon Age trash. I'm Dragon Age trash.  
> chicaaago.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

Solas took immense pleasure in watching his former captor’s freeze solid before shattering to thousands of pieces where they once stood. He was a little rusty, after having not fought for a year, but he was quickly acclimating to the staff Falon had found for him. The chance to kill the men who had questioned and tortured him was too sweet to pass up, even if he was still remembering proper staff movements. 

Only a handful of Venatori greeted them as they made their way out of the upper cells, but the small group was enough to slow them down at the very least. Solas realized just how many men were slipping past the defenses at the front lines and charging straight at him soon enough, he was hardly used to dealing with this many men close range, but dismissed the fault on the fact that they were taken off guard. When he looked over to the front lines, he realized that he had been wrong. 

Iron Bull was not at all an issue. He was cutting through the Venatori as if he had been doing it every day since they had been jailed, with fury burning in his eyes and blood covering his hands. Clearly he, too, was enjoying the revenge just as Solas was. Falon, however, was another story. Solas would not expect his fighting style to at all have changed, he had “just gotten here,” after all, but something was noticeably different. Falon was not at all focused on the Venatori dodging his poorly aimed attacks and slipping past him to attack the mages. Normally, Falon got a morbid kick out of watching his enemies fall before him. Now? Every attack seemed methodical, as if he was just trying to stop them and nothing more, though he was doing so poorly.

The fight took a bit longer than it would have if Falon had been paying better attention, and left Solas covered in more scratches and a bit more worn, but it was finished quickly and the group was moving once again. Solas understood why Falon was so unfocused, but honestly? Nothing mattered more than getting him back and fixing all of this. Solas wished Falon would understand that.

The guard’s barracks proved a convenient place to rest and restock, as well as upgrade the meager weapons Falon had found with stronger weapons that once belonged to their enemy, but their leader would hardly let them. As soon as the place had been lightly searched, and as soon as Solas and Bull were not panting as harshly, Falon insisted that they get moving once again.

“We need to rest, at least for a while,” Dorian tried to explain. “Solas and Bull have not been fighting for a year, they-”

“You were the one that said we had to get moving! What, are you suddenly not interested in saving the world?” Falon was stalking back and forth by one of the tables, impatient and irritable as Solas had not seen.

“That’s not what I said,” Dorian countered, “and you know I want to get back just as much as you do-”

“Then why don’t yo-”

“Would you please quit cutting me off?”  

“You just cut me off, hypocrite!” 

“Herald,” Solas stood, leaning against his staff as he continued to catch his breath, “please, you must keep calm. Yelling at your allies will not help you find Thamen any faster.” 

Falon’s breath caught at that, and his eyes fell. He made no reply beyond muttering something to himself and resuming his pacing, though he was less aggressive about it now. Solas sat back down, feeling he had done the best he could. At least Falon seemed a bit more calm now, though perhaps “calm” was not quite the word for it. He looked almost ashamed.

The group regained themselves once more, and Falon lead them in silence up the staircase leading to the torture chambers. Solas shuddered visibly upon entry, reminded all too clearly of the countless times he had been dragged up here. It had only been in the beginning, for the first few weeks of his imprisonment, and yet he knew he’d never be able to forget what he had to endure. He would not let himself falter now, not after having so many months recover from the physical, if not mental, trauma, not when a second chance at the world was at stake. 

Thamen was quick to start looking through whichever room he could open, claiming he was looking for more supplies, but the entire group knew that to be a lie. Going into the rooms did nothing to help Solas move past the painful memories of this place, and he clutched his staff tighter as he forced them from his mind best he could. Soon. Soon everything would be fixed, and he, or his past self, or alternate self, whatever the case may be, would never have to go through what he had.

There were not many openable doors between where they entered and their goal, thankfully. 

“You will break,” the torture hissed at Leliana, suspended in the air by her arms. 

“I will die first,” she hissed back. She looked old, worn, and Solas was horrified at the thought of just how long she had been in here, what they had done to her over the course of the year to make it look like she had been here for decades. They never had a chance to find out.

Falon rushed into the room after opening the door upon seeing Leliana. The torturer turned around in confusion, and Leliana’s face hardened.

“Or you will.” She quickly threw her legs up over the man’s shoulders and wrapped them around his neck, watching coldly as he struggled to free himself. Only a few minutes passed before she twisted her legs to the side, snapping his neck with a loud _crack_ and letting him fall to the floor.

As soon as he was down, Falon hurried across the room to the body, pulling the keys from his belt and quickly undoing the locks on Leliana’s manacles. 

“You’re alive?” She whispered, dropping her guard for just a moment while she was freed.

“That was…” Falon looked down at the corpse by his feet, “impressive.”

“Forget him, we have bigger problems on our hands,” Leliana gestured. “You need to end this. Do you have weapons?” Falon nodded, and she continued, walking past him to a nearby chest. “Good. The magister is probably in his chambers.”

“You… aren’t curious how we got here?” Dorian spoke up, watching Leliana next to Falon as she pulled her bow out of the container. 

“No,” she replied quickly, now armed. 

Dorian explained anyway, “Alexius sent us into the future. This, his victory, his Elder One - it was never meant to be.” 

“Seriously, how did you kill that guy with just your legs?” Falon was still staring down, awestruck, at the body. “I wish I could do that.” 

“We have to reverse his spell,” Dorian finished. “If we can get back to our present time, we can prevent this future from ever happening.”

“And mages always wonder why people fear them. No one should have this power.” 

“It’s dangerous and unpredictable. Before the Breach, nothing we did-”

Leliana cut him off, pointing at him accusingly, “enough! This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.” And with that, she turned her back to them, and walked out of the room, ready to go and find Alexius. 

Whilst Falon searched the room, Dorian attempted to make conversation, or ask for information if he was to be believed. Leliana cut him off quickly.

“Stop talking.”

They left the torture chambers, Falon noticeably even more disappointed now. Thamen was seemingly no where to be found, no where logical anyway. After all, where else would they be keeping him, if not in the cells or torture chambers? The evidence supporting Solas’s theory that he was long dead was only growing. 

It wasn’t long before they encountered yet another group of Venatori, however this one was already busying themselves with fighting demons currently pouring out of a Fade rift. This battle was worse than the last, but with the addition of Leliana, Solas was able to avoid being ganged up upon by the mix of Venatori soldiers and demons. Falon, too, seemed to be a bit more focused on closing the rift, but Solas noticed how his fingers twitched nervously around the hilt of his greatsword while they prepared for the next wave of demons. 

The rift was closed quickly, and the nearby bodies searched. Once that was completed, the group carried on, past the now opened gate and into a new room, the docks. The sound of two voices echoed throughout the area. 

“The magister needs more power for his rituals,” one voice mocked.

“No!” Another cried, “don’t hurt me, Linnea! You know me!” 

If anything could have been done to save the poor man, Solas would never know. By the time they made it down the stairs, two shades had taken up the space where the voices had been coming from. They were both dispatched quickly.

“This is madness,” Dorian sighed. “Alexius can’t have wanted this.” Again they restocked their potions and moved on. 

Solas had noticed how quiet Falon had been, he hadn’t said a word since they found Leliana, and was half-tempted to go to him and comfort his worries. He was about to give into the temptation when they stepped outside, into the courtyard.

“The Breach, it’s-!” Dorian’s eyes widened in shock at the green, swirling sky above them.

“…everywhere. Damnit.” Bull was the one who finished. Solas was almost awestruck by the sight of the sky. The world around them was dark and tinted green, and what looked like stones circled in the sky above them, orbiting around the Breach. Falon was staring up at it blankly, either completely shocked or completely indifferent, and Solas couldn’t tell which. 

After a long moment of all of them standing, staring, Falon slowly started to make his way up the nearby stairs, eyes still fixed on the sky as he walked. Another rift greeted them at the top, and they were all forced to rip their attention from the horrifying sight.

The sky, perhaps, wasn’t the worst part of all of this, thought it was the most jarring. Red lyrium was scattered through the courtyard like grass, sprouting out as tall as trees from the ground and humming with dark energy. Fade rifts were rampant, even in the small area of the courtyard. They encountered two mere feet from one another. 

By the time the closed the rifts, everyone involved was absolutely exhausted, including Falon, who was now uncharacteristically resting against the nearby wall with his eyes closed and chest rising and falling deeply. They spent a few minutes in silence, the only noise being the rumbling coming from the Breach, before making their way inside to the royal wing.

This part of the castle was considerably nicer than the other, which was not saying much considering the dismay the torture areas were in. Red lyrium was sparse, at least out here it was, and papers were not scattered, nor were the walls falling apart. There was also a distinctive lack of mummified corpses, which was nice.

As they walked, Dorian, once again, attempted to start a conversation with Leliana, “what became of Felix, do you know?” Once again, she was quick to shut him down, uninterested in anything that didn’t have to do with killing the magister that caused all this and getting the Herald and Dorian back to the past.

Of course, as soon as they stepped out of the back corridors and into what appeared to be the main hall, they came across yet another Fade rift, this one also accompanied by Venatori soldiers. Solas desperately hoped Falon was learning something after closing so many of the rifts, though he doubted it. Even if Thamen was here, and Falon’s mind not so completely unfocused on the tasks in front of him, he’d have little interest in paying any attention.

This fight was quick, they had fought enough of the demons and Venatori to know exactly how to take them down efficiently, but Solas, Leliana, and Dorian continued to have the same problem of too many enemies slipping behind the front lines. Solas knew he would have to speak with Falon about this, if they hadn’t found Thamen by now there was no way he’d ever find him until Falon went back to the right time.

“Falon,” Solas started, walking up behind him whilst Falon searched the pockets of one of the Venatori enchanters.

“I know what you’re going to say and I don’t care,” he said quickly, not bothering to look up. “We’re going to find Thamen, I can’t just leave him in this place.” He pulled out a small red shard, red lyrium, and looked at it curiously.

“What in Andraste’s name is that?” Dorian stepped up to the two, squinting at the small shard. “Hold onto it, I want to look at it later.” Falon nodded, and pocketed the shard. 

After Falon deemed that nothing of note was left on the bodies in the hall, they moved to the large door at the end, the one that supposedly led to Alexius’s throne room.

“Maker’s breath,” Dorian gasped upon seeing it. “Where did Alexius find this? How did he even move it here?”

Falon pushed at the door, and grunted in frustration when the massive thing didn’t even budge, “can we even open it?”

“Perhaps, but it looks quite strong,” Dorian studied the door for a moment, before adding to himself, “how desperate and paranoid must he be?” He spoke up again, “his servants must have a way through, he has to eat. Let’s look around.” 

“What about the shard Falon found,” Solas offered, and Falon pulled the shard out of his pocket. There were indents in the middle of the door, just looking at them one could tell the shard would fit quite well. Falon put it into one of the indentations, and the whole door lit up green, only for a moment before dying down.

“Let’s see if we can find any more of those shards,” Dorian agreed, and they set off into the adjoining halls.

They went up a set of stairs first, into a new area that Solas assumed must of been the servant’s quarters, considering how many soldiers and enchanters were there. This area was much filthier, though still not terribly so compared to the dungeon areas, with red lyrium sprouting out of just about every wall, occasionally going through or blocking doors. Despite these hinderances, they managed to find all but one shard on the bodies of the servants in the area.

“There were five indentations on the door, correct?” Dorian looked between the four shards in his hands. “There was another room back by the main hallway. Perhaps the last one is there.”  

“Sounds as good of a plan as any,” Bull agreed, while Falon nervously glanced at the blocked doors.

“We should… search the area. One more time, just in case. Those things are small, we don’t want to have missed one.” The entirety of the group agreed, even Solas, who knew that Falon wasn’t at all interested in searching for the shards.

After another round around the halls, they decided that the shard was not in this area, and that it would be best to move on. Falon agreed begrudgingly, and they made their way back to the main hall where they had started.

They walked down the hall and found themselves in a prayer room. The Venatori in the area had not noticed them, busy praying to their Elder One, Solas assumed. 

It was in this room that Solas’s theories about Thamen being killed as soon as he was captured were proven wrong. 

The body could not have been over a week old.

Words could not quite describe the state Thamen’s body was in, but they could very well try. The most noticeable thing was, beyond the very fact that Thamen was dead, his left arm was missing. It looked like an old wound, and the amputation was clean. They had not done that as part of a torture session, then, but as a more medical or scientific thing, perhaps to make it seem like he really was the Herald. Beyond that, the lower part of Thamen’s jaw had been ripped clean off, and the skin in the area was peeling. His eyes had been gouged out, a few dried nerves still hanging out, and deep slashes crossed over his chest. His remaining arm had been nailed to the wall in the very back of the sanctuary, and there was a short slash showing that his body had been slowly falling down. A small scattering of skin was below his dangling feet, and large red patches were covering his body. Dozens upon dozens of more minor woulds, stab wounds and burns mostly, littered most of whatever skin he had left, and thousands upon thousands of poorly-healed scars and minor cuts covered the rest.

Falon stood, completely still and eyes wide with his jaw hanging, staring at the mutilated body of his brother for what felt like hours. Solas could see the tears welling in his eyes, threatening to fall over, but he was too shocked to really feel grief yet. His expression changed slowly, a deep snarl forming on his face and his eyes narrowing. Falon’s grip around his sword tightened, and with a loud yell he charged into the praying Venatori.

He would not let a single man cross the front lines this time, but he wasn’t exactly killing any of them either. Each blow from him was clearly meant to wound, to cripple, before he would finally bury his sword into their necks, pulling it out, and letting them fall to the ground and bleed to death from their wounds slowly. Six men were on the ground soon, and only two were completely dead.

Falon stood, heaving as he glared down at the dying bodies, kicking one of the men in the side of his head before allowing his rage to simmer down. As he calmed, he looked over to the body of his brother, and slowly made his way up the stairs towards it.

No one quite knew what to say. Solas, Bull, and Leliana had seen much death over the year they had been here, they had almost grown used to it. Thamen’s body was a horrible sight, yes, but it was hardly something shocking to them. It was Dorian who went over to Falon, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and whispering something so low, Solas couldn’t quite make it out. Falon nodded solemnly, and reached his hand out to brush it against the part of Thamen’s cheek that was still intact. The skin peeled beneath Falon’s fingers, and his hand clenched into a fist next to his brother’s head.

“I’m going to kill every fucking Venatori in here,” he muttered, loud enough that Solas could hear. “Starting with that bastard Alexius.” 

It was a good thing Bull managed to find the last shard, because as soon as Falon uttered those words he marched straight out of the prayer room, not once looking back, and straight back into the main hall. He waited impatiently as Dorian inserted the tiny shards and, as soon as the door unlocked, busted it open and marched through the throne room, up to the point where they stood right in front of Alexius.  

Alexius stood with his back towards them, head hung almost apologetically. Falon didn’t care, “you bastard! I’m going to _kill_ you for what you’ve done!” Dorian held him back from actually carrying out his threat right then. 

“I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.” 

“Was this worth it?” Dorian asked solemnly, stepping in front of Falon. “Everything you did to the world, to yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” 

“You won’t _fucking_ be waiting long!” Falon attempted to charge once more, nearly knocking Dorian over in the attempt.

“Upset, are you?” Alexius chuckled, “the irony that you should appear now, of all possibilities. All that I fought for, and all that I’ve betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death, there is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.” 

Suddenly, Leliana was behind the figure crouching next to the throne, hoisting him up and holding a dagger to his neck. 

Alexius cried out in alarm, “Felix!" 

“That’s _Felix?_ ” Dorian stared shocked, “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?”

“He would have died, Dorian. I saved him!” Alexius turned to Leliana, “please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.” 

“Kill him,” the words came sternly out of Falon’s mouth without a moment of hesitation. Leliana nodded her understanding, and jerked the dagger across Felix’s throat, dropping him to the ground.

“No…” Alexius stared down at his son’s body for a moment, before shouting at Leliana, “no!” A flash of green erupted from where he hit his staff against the ground, sending Leliana flying backwards, and Alexius faced the rest of the group slowly. Falon snarled and rose his sword up, charging at the magister with a cry.

The fight against Alexius was probably completely avoidable, Solas noted, but there was no way to stop it now that Felix was dead. Alexius shot at them again and again with various spells, even with Falon interrupting him most of the time with magical attacks and pommel strikes. He was dragging this out, obviously, likely wanting to weaken Alexius before finally getting his fill of revenge, and Solas was doing his best to try to kill Alexius as quickly as possible so Falon would not have the chance, as was everyone else it seemed. Now wasn’t the time for revenge, not when he could have it after the world was fixed.

The first rift came as a surprise, Solas had no idea anyone but Falon had the ability to open them, but at least with demons they knew what they were doing, after having killed so many. Falon, however, was completely uninterested in demons. He continued to attempt attacking Alexius, even though the magister had thrown a very strong barrier over himself and Falon was doing no damage whatsoever. When the rift finally closed, after the group yelled at Falon to do so, Alexius’s barrier faded and the process began again. 

Another rift and a good while later, Alexius was down. Falon was pacing around irritably, furious Leliana had managed to hit the magister between the eyes with an arrow, making it so Falon would get no chance to sate himself. Dorian was crouching by Alexius’s body, speaking with Bull, who seemed to be doing what he could to comfort the mage. Dorian recovered quickly enough, more or less, and walked over to Falon.

“This is the same amulet he used before,” Dorian spoke to Falon, who was hardly listening. “I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

“An hour? That’s impossible! You must go now!” Leliana rushed over to them. Dorian was about to respond, but a loud rumble disrupted him. The earth shook beneath their feet, and the cry of what sounded like a dragon could be heard in the distance. Stones fell steadily from the already crumbling ceiling.

“The Elder One,” Leliana identified the noises, and Falon’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m going to kill him, too,” he hissed, attempting to drawing his sword once more before he was stopped. 

Solas turned to Iron Bull, who was giving him a look of understanding. They knew what had to be done to grant Dorian the time he needed.

“We’ll do what we can to hold them off,” Iron Bull announced, and Falon’s face fell.

“What? You, you can’t go! I need your help killing the Elder One!” His eyes widened in worry.

“Look at us, Falon. We’re already dead. The only way we can be saved is if this day never comes,” Leliana tried to explain, and Falon nodded, though he was still very clearly distraught.

The group turned away, “cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows.”

Solas stepped out into the main hall, aware of the broken look of Falon’s, but unaware of how it focused on him.

* * *

Solas had not seen Falon for days, the last time being the day they returned to Haven after gaining the mage’s alliance. Falon was quick to excuse himself, and then hurried off out of sight. Solas wondered, for a time, if he was simply angry at being attacked by Alexius, and then he learned that Falon had been sent forward in time from Dorian. A small part of Solas hoped Falon was writing notes on his experience, time magic was a wildly unexplored concept after all, but he soon learned, also from Dorian, what had happened whilst they were “away”. 

Dorian left out specifics, though he did allude to the idea of quite a large number of people dying, people Falon cared for greatly, apparently. After learning this, Solas attempted to seek out their Herald, to no avail. The problem wasn’t on the front of his mind, however, until Thamen came up to him.

“Solas, hey, need your help with something,” Thamen didn’t bother with any form of pleasantry. The look on his face showed just how focused he was. “Falon’s been acting freaky weird. Like, won’t talk to anyone, ever. He locks himself up in our room, _our_ room, might I mention again, I’ve had to sleep with the soldiers for the past three days, and whenever I _do_ see him, he get’s this… strange look on his face. Won’t tell me anything about it though.”

“…” Solas thought over Thamen’s words, “perhaps he is distraught over being sent to the future, still? If what Dorian told us is to be believed, the world was in utter chaos.”

“Yeah, but, like, if that was all it wouldn’t be a problem. Falon and I are used to chaos, and Falon isn’t an idiot, he should know that world was kinda fake. Why would he be so bothered by seeing it destroyed?” Thamen crossed his arms and looked up in thought.

“I can go speak to him, if you think that will help,” Solas offered, and Thamen’s face lit up.

“What, really? Okay, great! He won’t let me into _our_ room,” Thamen made a face for a moment, “but he might let you in, yeah? He likes you. Go on, then, go talk to him!” 

“Now? I’m in the middle of-"

“Yes, now! Falon’s more than our leader, he’s my brother, our friend! We can’t let him mope about any longer! I’ll wait here, come back and tell me how it goes.”

“You talk as if I will only be gone a few moments. If Falon is grieving, it could take hours for him to relate his emotions,” Solas noted.

“Yeah, but I honestly doubt he’ll let you in,” Thamen shrugged. “Go!” And with that, Thamen shoved Solas lightly, and with a sigh, the mage set off towards the Chantry, where the twin’s quarters were located. 

Solas knocked lightly on the door. He had already tried opening it, only to find that it was locked. Was Falon even in there? No sound could be heard through the door.

A moment of waiting later, Solas decided that it would be best to return to Thamen and ask for help in opening the door, surely Thamen had a key, when a voice called out, “who’s there?”

“Falon,” Solas called back. “It’s Solas. I wish to speak with you.”

Falon did not respond, and Solas jangled the lock again, “it’s locked, Falon.”

“Yeah, and?” The sharp edge in Falon’s tone was impossible to miss.

“I can’t get in if it’s locked.” Another moment of silence, and the soft sound of footsteps could be heard. Falon unlocked the door, and opened it a fraction.

“Did Thamen put you up to this?” 

“Yes.”

Falon attempted to groan, but it came out strangled and rough, and turned away from the door. Solas noticed Falon’s eyes were red and puffy, and tear streaks stained his cheeks. He had been crying? Solas could hardly imagine Falon crying. The door had been left open, and Solas let himself in.

Falon had moved away from the door and onto a desk chair, where he sat with his knees to his chest and staring absently off into space. 

“Thamen is worried. He believes that the future you saw is getting to you.”

“He doesn’t know the half of it,” Falon sighed.

“Would you like to share?” 

“No.”

“Very well,” Solas sat on one of the beds, watching as Falon came to the realization he had not yet left, nor did it look like he planned to.

“You can go now. I’m alive, that’s probably all Thamen wants to know. Tell him I’m sorry about kicking him out, he’s probably pissed about that, too.” 

“Thamen is more concerned about you than that,” Solas told him. “He’s worried about your mental well-being, and he’s concerned about the looks you have been giving him whenever you two meet, which is apparently very rarely.”

“Makes sense, considering I saw him-…” Falon’s voice died down quickly.

“Saw him what?” 

“…I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Solas did not respond to that. They sat in total silence for at least ten minutes, Solas idly pondering what exactly Falon might have seen that had thrown him off so completely. Dorian had mentioned that people close to Falon had died, and to Solas it seemed very likely now that Falon had seen Thamen die. That must of been what was causing this bout of grief.

“There was very little you could have done,” Solas spoke up, deciding to act upon his theory.

“What?” Falon looked up quickly, wide eyes telling Solas he had hit the nail on the head, or perhaps he just surprised Falon.

“To save him. To save anything. You missed an entire year, you couldn’t have fixed it any more than you did.” 

Falon’s look of surprise lingered for a moment, before shifting to a snarl, “don’t act like you know what I saw. Just cause Dorian told you, you’ll never know for real.” 

“Falon-” 

“No!” Falon pulled himself off of his chair and stood, “you wanted to hear about this? You wanna know what I saw so badly so you can run off and tell Thamen? Fine! I saw his _corpse_ , Solas. His- his _fucking. Corpse._ And you know what? I didn’t even recognize him at first! Th-they cut off his arm, and his jaw, and his eyes, a-and- and…” Falon trained off, gesturing wildly as he tried to recount the details of his brother’s body, while simultaneously trying to push the image from his mind.

Solas took the moment of silence as a chance to give his sympathies, “I’m so-” He never had a chance.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry! You’re not sorry! You know that every time I see him, all I can see is that fucking corpse? I can’t look him in the eye anymore! I can’t look at him at all anymore! All I see is his fucking body, strung up on the wall as a sacrifice to whatever bastard god those bastard Venatori were worshipping!”

He paused again for a moment, panting heavily, but not quite yet done, “and you know what else? You too! You, Bull, Leliana, you all fucking ran off and killed yourselves! For me! For some elf who just happened to be sent to the wrong human thing at the wrong time! They threw your body into the room a-and, they just… Leliana…” Falon started faltering now, words becoming broken sobs as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He was ranting, still, but it was all incoherent. 

Solas stood up off the bed and walked towards his wailing companion, gently wrapping his arms around Falon and pulling him close. Falon sobbed loudly into his chest, gripping tightly to the cotton of his shirt.

“It’s all over now, da’len,” Solas soothed. “Thamen, Bull, Leliana, I… we’re all here for you. We’re alive because of what you did.” Falon clutched tighter. 

Just as before, they stood unspeaking, though hardly in silence. Falon’s cries grew in volume before they quieted down, soaking Solas’s shirt through with heavy tears. Solas was not so much at a lose for words, more concerned with what affect his words would have. Falon did not need any verbal comforting, just someone to hold.

“S-solas?” His broken voice took Solas off-guard, and the elf looked down to see Falon looking up to him longingly. “C-could you g-get Thamen for me…? L-later…” Solas nodded and Falon sighed, exhausted. 


	6. Chapter 6

The closing of the Breach had been a magnificent sight to witness. Solas was lucky he had a chance to do so, the majority of the Inquisition was kept at Haven. If something were to go wrong, they could hardly afford to lose the bulk of their army. Solas was aware the only reason he was allowed to accompany the Herald was because it was he who would be leading the mages, but he was grateful nevertheless. 

“Focus past the Herald,” Solas ordered the mages. “Let his will draw from you!” He quickly turned then to the Herald, who was walking slowly towards the Breach, covering his eyes from the near-blinding green light emitting from it. 

The mages slammed their staves into the ground in front of them, gentle-looking but powerful magic sparking and glowing freely around them all. In unison, Falon’s mark began to glow and flicker as he neared the Breach. He thrust his hand up, and green arcs of energy cracked as they connected to the massive tear in the Rift. 

The Breach’s own energy responded instantly, lights swirling around it as the rift pulled itself together, until the tear was sealed completely. An explosion followed a second later, sending near everyone in attendance back onto the ashen ground. 

Cassandra was the one who recovered first, quickly pulling herself off the ground and making her way through the crowd of still recovering mages to the Herald. Falon was kneeling, head down as he breathed deeply. Slowly, he raised his head up, and was yanked to his feet by Cassandra. 

“You did it,” she told him, and the mages cheered. Thamen, who had snuck in with the mages despite the fact that he was suppose to rem

The closing of the Breach had been a magnificent sight to witness. Solas was lucky he had a chance to do so, the majority of the Inquisition was kept at Haven. If something were to go wrong, they could hardly afford to lose the bulk of their army. Solas was aware the only reason he was allowed to accompany the Herald was because it was he who would be leading the mages, but he was grateful nevertheless.

“Focus past the Herald,” Solas ordered the mages. “Let his will draw from you!” He quickly turned then to the Herald, who was walking slowly towards the Breach, covering his eyes from the near-blinding green light emitting from it.

The mages slammed their staves into the ground in front of them, gentle-looking but powerful magic sparking and glowing freely around them all. In unison, Falon’s mark began to glow and flicker as he neared the Breach. He thrust his hand up, and green arcs of energy cracked as they connected to the massive tear in the Rift.

The Breach’s own energy responded instantly, lights swirling around it as the rift pulled itself together, until the tear was sealed completely. An explosion followed a second later, sending near everyone in attendance back onto the ashen ground.

Cassandra was the one who recovered first, quickly pulling herself off the ground and making her way through the crowd of still recovering mages to the Herald. Falon was kneeling, head down as he breathed deeply. Slowly, he raised his head up, and was yanked to his feet by Cassandra.

“You did it,” she told him, and the mages cheered. Thamen, who had snuck in with the mages despite the fact that he was suppose to remain at Haven, let out a whoop of excitement, throwing his hands into the air before charging into Falon and knocking him back onto the ground. Cassandra was shocked for a moment, but a warm smile soon grew on her lips. Solas, too, sighed in a kind of relief. His theories about the Anchor had been correct, then.

* * *

Excitement and joy were spreading through Haven like Solas had never seen before. He was sure he had yet to come across even a half-sober individual, and yet despite this many were attempting complex dances which led to partners tripping over one another and landing in piles one atop of the other. Laughter and music rang out through the town, and for once, Solas found he didn’t mind the disruption so much. The celebration was hardly unwelcome at all.

Thamen and Falon were dancing with one another, slightly less drunk but no less clumsy than any of the other dancers. They laughed loudly as they crashed into another pair, causing them all to entangle themselves together and promptly fall over.

Falon had finally explained everything to Thamen, it seemed, and Thamen took the news well enough. Falon finally came out of their shared room the day after Solas left him in Thamen’s care, not quite as boisterous as he had been before but he was rapidly recovering. Thamen wouldn’t accept anything less.

Solas had yet to be asked to dance, yet, and he wished to keep it that way. Even while the celebration was enjoyable, he had no interest in participating quite so much. He snuck back to his usual corner in Haven, close enough where he could hear the party but far enough where he should not be disturbed too terribly. He needed to check the state of the Fade.

* * *

The sound of bells and of marching in the distance was what pulled Solas’s attention away from his book in the end, not a member of the Inner Circle as he had been expecting. Solas looked towards the mountain, confused, and his eyes widened in genuine surprise. An army, marching over the snow covered rock towards Haven. He had not been expecting this so soon.

Cullen’s orders to pick up arms was what drew him out, where he was quickly found by Thamen and Sera.

“Great, you’re here, let’s go!” Without waiting for response, Thamen grabbed Solas’s forearm and dragged him back towards the Chantry. It was a good thing he still had his armor on from their trip to the Breach, and that his staff was already in his hand.

Near the entrance to the Chantry, Falon and Iron Bull waited for, supposedly, him, Sera, and Thamen. The group was pulled together, and quickly Falon dragged them towards the gate.

“This doesn’t bode well,” Solas muttered to himself, watching as soldiers hurried through the gate and towards the trebuchets and Cullen gesturing wildly.

Cassandra and Falon’s advisors were already speaking to Cullen by the time they arrived at the gate themselves, the two of them asking for information on the approaching army.

“One watch guard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain,” Cullen pointed to the army, and Falon hurried around to get a look himself.

“Under what banner?” Josephine asked, surprisingly calmly.

“None.”

“None?”

Falon was trying to look over the walls, Solas wasn’t sure how well that was working for him, when a loud banging on the gate caught all of their attention.

A voice came from the other side, “I can’t come in unless you open!” Whoever it was didn’t sound dangerous, but the nearby guards were cautious to open the gate anyway.

Outside, just as they opened the gate, a man in full armor, apparently one of the soldiers from the nearby army, fell to the ground, a young-looking, blond boy with daggers raised and bloodied behind him, massive hat obscuring most of his features.

Falon rushed out with Cullen, nervously glancing at the bodies littering the entryway.

Solas could not hear most of the conversation between this stranger and Falon, being kept behind the gate with the others, but he watched attentively as the young man pointed towards the massive force. Solas’s gaze followed the stranger’s gesture, and breath caught in his throat.

The human he did not know, it was the creature that he recognized all too well. He should have guessed it would come to this, since that thing managed to survive.

Cullen spoke quietly with the Herald for a few moments longer before turning to address the mages. Solas, with the others in the Herald’s group, rushed up to meet Falon.

“What’s the plan?” Thamen spoke first.

“We’ve got to get to the trebuchets, stop them before they get too close. Thamen, are you sure yo-”

“Yes, of course I’m staying with you. Now let’s get going!”

They were followed to the northern trebuchet by a handful of Inquisition soldiers. Another, smaller group was already manning the machine, while simultaneously attempting to defend it from waves of templars.

Solas already knew templars were vicious, namely against mages, but these templars were most definitely different. They fought with a kind of frenzy Solas had only seen in demons, and demons they very well could have been. Mineral growths sprouted out of the best of them, Solas recognized it immediately as red lyrium, and the worst were completely transformed into hunched, grotesque creatures that moved in ways that made Solas’s muscles tense just to look at.

They were more difficult to defeat the more monstrous they were, but between the five of them, plus the Inquisition soldiers who had joined them, the trebuchet was successfully defended and fired. The stone took out a large amount of soldiers still marching on the mountain, but it was a tiny portion of the entire army. Using the trebuchets seemed useless, they would be overrun before they could take them all out at a distance, but it was their only hope.

The next trebuchet was already overrun by more templars, all of which were taken out by the group, albeit slowly. With no soldiers to man this one, Falon took up the job, turning the wheel to move the trebuchet into place. Just as he started, however, reinforcements were upon them, and Falon had to abandon the task to help his group take care of them.

Eventually, they managed to fire the trebuchet, which threw a stone not directly at the soldiers as the last one did, but at the cliff above them. The stone hit the rock, dislodging massive amounts of snow and chunks of the mountain, which tumbled down the cliff and overtook a massive amount of the army.

Cheers ran out among the surviving soldiers, and Falon looked at his work proudly. Their celebration was short lived, just as the one before, however.

The sound of the dragon caught everyone’s attention before the massive bolt of fire hit the trebuchet, sending soldiers and Falon’s party flying backwards against the snowy ground. The dragon flew by after the trebuchet fell apart, screeching into the night as it circled above. It was like no dragon Solas had ever seen, that was for sure. No creature tonight was like what Solas knew of creatures of the world, he realized.

Falon pulled himself up slowly just as the massive dragon flew off towards Haven, never quite flying over the town but circling it’s walls.

“Oh that’s just messed up!” Bull yelled, almost as if he was offended, hands gripping the hilt of his greataxe tightly.

“Everyone to the gates,” Falon ordered, and the soldiers hardly needed to be told twice. They rushed off towards Haven, followed closely by the Herald’s party.

They were stopped once by Harriet, who was having problems getting into the small building by the smithy, due to the large number of crates which had fallen in front of the door. Falon was quick to destroy them with his sword, and then finally they rushed into the gates, which were closed quickly after them by Cullen.

“Come on, move it!” Cullen yelled gesturing for the soldiers to hurry through. The dragon flew above them just as Cullen closed the gate.

“We need everyone back to the Chantry!” He yelled, “it is the only building that might hold against… that beast! At this point, just make them work for it.” With that, he rushed off towards the Chantry.

“People need to move!” Sera called out to Falon, “round them up.”

They rushed around Haven, saving as many as they could from red templars, collapsing buildings, and near explosions. It was difficult work, the red templars doing just about everything to deter their efforts and the dragon flying above efficiently distracting and worrying them all to the point where even Thamen’s hands were shaking as he held his daggers, trying to focus on the battle in front of them.

The group of templars attacking Threnn was defeated, and Solas spoke hurriedly to Falon, “I believe that is everyone. Best to follow.” Falon nodded in agreement.

A soldier opened the heavy Chantry doors for them, and they followed the rescued townspeople inside quickly. Chancellor Roderick looked horribly wounded, face flushed red and blood seeping through his robes on his side, and yet he continued to guide the townspeople into the Chantry. The stranger from the gate stood next to him, helping him remain standing.

“He tried to stop a templar,” Solas heard the stranger explain. “The blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

“What a charming boy,” Chancellor Roderick choked out. He was placed down on a chair by the stranger.

Cullen came rushing from the back of the Chantry a moment later, to the Herald, “Herald, our position here is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon,” the stranger spoke up. “I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.” In the Fade? Solas made a mental note to speak to this stranger later.

“I don’t care what it looks like, it’s cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

“What? Why?” Falon gave the stranger a quizzical look, and blinked once. “Is it the freaky mark thing I have?”

Solas did not hear any more of the conversation, he was whisked away to help heal the wounded, which just went to show how low on men Haven was becoming. Solas knew a good amount about healing, but there were many much more skilled than he was. There was many, it seems that most of them had perished.

And then he was pulled away yet again by a handful of soldiers and dragged to Falon, who had a grave expression on his face.

Falon explained the situation brusquely, and then pulled them outside, “we need to distract the Elder One.”

“Alright, time to get loud!” Iron Bull yelled as they were assaulted by templars immediately after stepping out of the Chantry. It was the first of many skirmishes as they tried to make their way to the trebuchet as quickly as possible. Solas wondered if the soldiers they sent ahead to arm the machine were even still alive.

Fortunately, they were. The party reached the trebuchet mildly scratched up but otherwise in one piece, and quickly set to work with aiming the trebuchet, though Solas had no idea where Falon was going to try and hit. From the looks of it, neither did anyone else, but they all seemed more concerned with defeating the templars attempting to stop Falon than asking exactly what Falon was doing.

They fought constantly, each turn of the trebuchet seemingly bringing an endless stream reinforcements. It became almost like clockwork for Solas, cast a barrier, freeze the templars getting too close to them, stand back so Iron Bull could shatter them without getting hit by any sharp shards of ice… And then the ground beneath them all started to shake and a massive creature, almost completely made of red lyrium, appeared.  
Solas had never guessed the affects of red lyrium could lead to something like this. He knew of the mental affects, and had seen a few not exactly minor but not this extreme physical affects, but this man had gone beyond anything Solas could have imagined. The only vaguely human aspect of the creature attacking them all was the almost comical small head between the thing’s massive, crystal shoulders.

Falon stopped aiming the trebuchet. Indeed, he had no choice but to stop, as the thing went directly to him first.

The thing’s hand had been crystalized into something akin to a sledgehammer, and it would slam it down onto the snowy ground often, shaking the world even more and attempting to hit the Herald or his group. The thing would summon red lyrium, seemingly from the ground but Solas was sure that red lyrium had never grown below Haven, and would trap various party members against the tall growths. All the while, it’s inhuman cries would attract more and more templars to aid in its battle. Solas was sure he should have died at least five times by now.

The thing finally fell with another otherworldly cry, tumbling to the ground like a boulder and shaking the earth below them one last time. After that, as exhausted as they all were, taking out the remaining templars was simple, and the area was looted quickly by Thamen while Falon rushed to return to his work.

Solas only realized what Falon planned to do once he stopped turning the wheel. The trebuchet was aimed at the mountain directly above Haven, hitting it would surely cause a landslide that would cover the entire town.

He didn’t have the time to voice his concerns. As soon as he realized Falon’s plan, the dragon returned, this time flying directly at them instead of circling around as it was before.

“Move,” Falon hissed, before turning and yelling at the group, “now!” They all rushed away from the trebuchet, the dragon breathing a red, fiery mist at their heels. None of them stopped running until they reached the Chantry, and caught up with the escaping villagers and soldiers.

* * *

“He’s an idiot!” Thamen had been pacing so long now, there were no longer just footprints in the snow, but a complete clearing of snow marking his short path. “A complete and utter dumbass! If he’s dead I’m going to kill him.”

Solas sighed, “you must keep calm, Thamen, if Falon really is dead then-”

“If he’s really dead,” Thamen stopped pacing for a second to glare pointedly at Solas, “I’m. Going. To. Kill. Him.” He instantly went back to pacing.

“If he really is dead,” Solas repeated, “then you’re likely the man who will be put in his place. You’ve been working beside him so closely for so long, you would be the only proper substitute.”

“You’re no help,” Thamen huffed dismissively, “Creators, why aren’t we doing anything?!”

“Scouts are watching the road now,” Solas reminded him, and Thamen slouched forward.  
“I know,” he sighed. “I just wished we were doing more.”

Solas did what he could to distract Thamen while desperately trying not to worry about Falon himself. He hadn’t realized just how attached he had grown to the young elf, nor to his brother. He had been avoiding thinking about these feelings, but with so much time on his hands and nothing to do, there was little he could busy himself with now. He tried to focus on the explanation on the elven artifacts he was giving Thamen.

Nothing could make him ignore the way his heart skipped a beat when scouts shouted that Falon was in sight, coming this way. He brushed it off as simply being startled by their sudden outburst, and walked, brusquely but in absolutely no rush, to go an see for himself.

* * *

It was Falon. The scout’s sight was impeccable, Solas wasn’t sure why he wondered if the scout had identified the figure correctly or not, so of course it was Falon.

Their Herald fell to his knees just as Cassandra, alongside Cullen, himself, Thamen, and a group of soldiers came rushing to him, and slipped quickly into unconsciousness. He was in one of the quickly built tents now, being looked after by Mother Giselle, his brother, and the occasional passing healer. There was no need for serious medical attention, he was only suffering from minor frostbite on his toes from walking for so long in the deep snow.

Solas was standing on the outskirts of the camp, looking over the pointed cliffs and the looming mountains. There was no way to weasel his way out of it now, he had to admit everything to Falon. About the orb, about Corypheus, the Breach… Falon was unpredictable enough that Solas couldn’t quite figure out exactly what his reaction would be, but there was no chance it’d be positive enough that Solas would be able to stay with the Inquisiton with no backlash.

So he stood, thinking over which words he’d use, how he’d try to downplay what he had done, and he was trying not to think about what would happen after, when Falon inevitably told Thamen and Thamen inevitably told everyone else.

Fortunately, he had time. Falon was still out cold, last he saw, and Thamen was watching over him. He had sat with Thamen for a time, neither of them saying anything. Solas was still amazed and intrigued by their unbreakable connection, he had never seen anything quite like it. Were all twins like this, perhaps? Solas had only seen a few pairs in his lifetime, and only one other had he ever gotten this close to. He was young when he met them, however, and would not have noticed their relationship with one another. A part of him wished to be involved in their connection, not in a brotherly way but…

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. Not when he was about to be kicked away from them.

The sound of a group of people singing caught his attention, and he strode back towards the tents. He was a bit confused at first, and shocked to find that the entire camp really was singing. What shocked him the most, however, was the Herald, looking just as confused by all the soldiers and workers bowing their heads to him as Solas felt. Humans surely were strange.

The singing, thankfully, came to a close, and Solas pushed past the crowd. “A word,” he muttered to Falon, gesturing with his head towards a nearby cliff. Now came the hard part.

Falon followed a few steps behind, watching curiously as Solas lit a touch in a brilliant blue flame. Solas smiled at the awestruck expression on Falon’s face, but the smile faltered as what was to come next dawned on him.

He could do this. He was hardly some nervous child about to admit to stealing cookies from the jar. No, this was much, much worse.

Now that he thought about it, the comparison did nothing to help him. Damnit.

“The humans have not raised on of our people so high for ages beyond counting,” Solas started, trying to figure out exactly how he’d phrase everything. “Her faith is hard won, Lethalin, worthy of pride… save on detail. The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carries? It is ours.” The words were not at all what Solas intended. He meant to take blame for this, properly, and yet he could not bring himself to push the blame on elves as a whole.

“Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived, and we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people.” As opposed to Solas needing to prepare for how Falon and Thamen would react when the orb was his alone.

Falon, not quite surprisingly, was taking everything very well, “yeah, alright. What do you know about the orb? More importantly, how do you know about the orb?”

Solas had been expecting those questions, he could answer them easily, “such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire. But however Corypheus came to it,” as if Solas didn’t know, “the orb is elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith.”

“Pfffft,” Falon stuck his tongue out, “that’s a problem, isn’t it? Humans always find a way to blame the elves.”

Solas chuckled lightly, and thoughts of confessions that never came to pass faded, “whatever the case, we must find shelter. You will need every advantage if you are to keep the trust they hold to you now.

“By attacking the Inquisition,” Solas went on, “Corypheus has changed it. Changed you. Scout to the North. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow…” Solas began to trail off.

A wide grin grew over Falon’s face, “well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go find it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I forgot to post this for a few months, hahahahahaha.
> 
> Sorry.

They had been at Skyhold for three weeks now. Three weeks of endless remodeling, rebuilding, and scouring for supplies, with barely a moment to catch one’s breath in between. Finally, after the three weeks passed, things began to slow down.

The majority of Skyhold’s residents had found a job with which they were content to have, a bed they were thrilled to have, and a steady supply of income which, no matter how meager, was a pleasant change from the few coins they managed to steal away from their burning homes. The builders had deemed the entirety of Skyhold now livable, despite the common holes found in roofs, and Solas was allowed to work in his new study in peace.

Now that things were calming down, Falon, now Inquisitor, instantly decided that he and his companions would need to go do something fun. He was currently planning an expedition to the Exalted Plains, as far as Solas knew, so it was surprising to see him come bounding into the study.

Of course, there was always the chance that it was Thamen, but Solas had grown adept at telling them apart, beyond just looking to see if the twin had the mark or not. A side-effect of spending so much time around them, he supposed. More specifically, a side-effect of them spending so much time around him.

“Solas!” Falon greeted, eyes wide and searching about the room, “I love what you did with the place. Did you paint this all yourself?” 

Solas nodded, and Falon’s grin widened, “that’s amazing! You should come paint my room sometime. I’ve already got a mural of some sort up there, but it’s nothing exciting.”

A moment passed between them, Falon still staring in awe up at the half-painted walls and Solas watching him, before Falon spoke up again, “anyway, I didn’t come here to complement your painting ability. I was hoping we could talk.”

“What would you like to talk about,” Solas asked, putting the book he had currently been reading down. He supposed he’d have to get to it later. 

“I don’t know a lot about you, I realized,” Falon responded, gently running his fingers over the designs. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Very well,” Solas bowed his head, “however, let us talk somewhere else. Somewhere more interesting than this.”

Falon turned to him, smile wide, “more interesting than Skyhold? I fail to think of any such place!”

Solas returned the smile with a smaller one of his own.

* * *

Solas lead Falon through the snowy walkways of Haven. They walked in silence, Falon taking in the sights around him as if he had never seen them before.

“Why here?” Falon’s voice cut through the whistling wind.

Solas turned towards his fellow elf, gesturing to the village around them, “Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you.”

“We talked about that already,” Falon argued, clearly displeased with the response, and crossed his arms. Solas did not turn to him, and Falon signed and skipped a few steps to catch up.

They made their way into the Chantry, conveniently and uncharacteristically empty, and down the narrow steps to the holding cells. Solas looked about them with a faint sense of nostalgia, remembering that night, months ago, when the elf trailing behind him was first found. It was not exactly a happy memory, but it was important to him all the same.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor,” Solas thought aloud, looking over the very cell the event took place in.

Falon snorted, “how long could it take to look at a mark on my hand?”

“A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique breach in the veil? Longer than you might think,” Solas shrugged, and then continued, in a much more serious tone. “I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing. Cassandra expected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

“Cassandra’s like that with everyone,” Falon shrugged. “You should have seen the way she reacted to me when I first woke up!” 

Solas chuckled, smile from earlier reforming, “ha! Yes…” With a nod of his head, he urged Falon to follow him back outside.

“You were never going to wake up,” he continued, once the both of them stepped foot back into the chilled air. “How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?”

Solas sighed, shook his head, and stopped, “I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra… or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

“Where would you go, exactly? The Breach was going to swallow the world, as in the entirety of it. Everywhere,” Falon’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“Someplace far away, where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me.”

The furrow between Falon’s eyebrows deepened, and Solas continued, “I never said it was a good plan.” He turned, and continued away from the Chantry.

“I told myself, one more attempt to seal the rifts…” Solas shook his head. “I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…”

He continued to stare, almost fondly, up at the Breach, and then turned back to Falon, “it seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture… and right then, I felt the whole world change.”

“The whole world, eh?” A sly grin crept up Falon’s features. 

“A figure of speech.”

“Oh forget that,” Falon sauntered closer. “Mind telling me a bit more about the ‘felt’ part?”

“You change… everything,” Solas was almost tempted to step back, away from the elf who was continuously growing closer, but he knew that such an action would lead to questions. And besides that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to pull away, not yet.

“Mmhmm,” Falon hummed, and placed his hands onto Solas’s chest. He pushed himself up on his toes, Solas being just a fraction taller than he was, and pressed his lips onto Solas’s own. 

The kiss was brief, light, everything Solas would never assume from a kiss from Falon, who was so passionate about everything he did. When Falon pulled away, Solas refused to believe that their quick kiss was all that would happen between them.

It was a foolish move, but he couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Falon’s arm just as he was about to turn away, and pulled him back into his arms. This time, it lasted was deeper, both physically and emotionally, and once it ended, Falon was practically glowing. 

“We…” Solas finally regained himself, “we shouldn’t. It isn’t right, not even here.”

Falon pouted playfully, but Solas could see the genuine hurt behind his eyes, “what’s that suppose to mean? ‘Even here?’”

“Where did you think we were?”

Falon squinted at him for a moment before glancing around, “wait… wait a moment. Haven is… This is an illusion?”

“That’s a matter of debate,” Solas nodded, “probably best discussed after you wake up.”

* * *

It was not long before Falon came back down to the study, suspicion written all over his features. 

“Sleep well?” Solas asked, hoping to lighten the mood. It seemed to have worked, if only a little, Falon’s face relaxed.

“That was…” Falon considered the events of before carefully, “that was really amazing.” He smiled, “and I’m not just talking about the fact that we were talking in the Fade.”

Solas laughed, almost nervously, “I… apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

Falon returned the laugh heartedly, “‘encouraged it’, you say! I do believe what you did was a bit more than simply ‘encouraging’ it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Aha, right. Of course you don’t.” Falon smiled at him knowingly, and Solas sighed.

“It… has been a long time. Things have always been easier for me in the Fade, I could not hold myself back. Perhaps it is best to quit this now, before it causes trouble.”

“Trouble? Is that what you’re worried about?” Falon laughed again, “Solas, we’re all being chased by a evil Magister bent on destroying us entirely just because I messed up his little ritual. I doubt anyone would mind if we started making out on a regular basis.”

“Yes, I… suppose you have a po-” Solas looked down to Falon’s marked hand at the mention of it, only to find that it wasn’t marked at all. His eyes widened in confusion for a second before he realized that he had been tricked. How had Thamen found out about what had happened in the Fade? 

Of course, Falon had told him. And Thamen was likely displeased that Solas had given into his baser desires and kissed his brother. But if that was the case, then why hadn’t Thamen lashed out at him yet?

“I-… Thamen, I assure you that I meant nothing by the kiss, I was simply…”

“Oh don’t let Falon hear you say that. He was lovestruck,” Thamen rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ll have you know, however, that I’m quite a bit disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yes, disappointed. Regardless, I’m here for my payback.” Before Solas could apologize yet again, and explain that he would gladly do anything to make up for kissing Falon, Thamen surged forward and pulled Solas close.

Their lips met, and Solas tensed up instantly. Thamen, not sensing his discomfort in the slightest, it seemed, eagerly nipped and licked at Solas’s lower lip, asking for permission to deepen the kiss.

Despite the fact that they were out of the Fade, and Solas was out of his element, he could not help but fall into the kiss. He responded with just as much eagerness once the tension faded away, parting his lips for Thamen, giving him full ability to deepen it to his will. 

Thamen never did, though. Unlike the deep, passionate kiss that occurred between Solas and Falon, Thamen seemed quite content to keep what happened between them limited to mostly lips. 

Thamen pulled away after a few moments, grinning from ear to ear, “you know, Falon and I had a bet.”

“Oh?”

“On who would get to kiss you first. He said he had won, but I said it didn’t count because he was in the Fade.” Thamen idly locked their fingers together, as if they had been lovers for ages. The move, oddly enough, seemed far more intimate to Solas than anything they had previously done, and he could feel his heart rate quicken.

“Do you think it counts? The kiss you and Falon shared in the Fade?”

“It would all depend,” Solas explained, “on just how similar it was to a kiss in this world. I suppose I would have to test it again.”

“You can’t flirt with my brother when he’s not here,” Thamen teased. 

“Perhaps you can carry on my message to him, then?”

“Consider it done.” Thamen unlaced their fingers and bowed his head in farewell before exiting the study.

Finally left to his own thoughts, Solas recounted the events that had recently passed. The kisses… they were more than what Solas could have ever hoped for, and more than he could ever truly have. There was no way to deny his feelings for the twins at this point, and yet he knew, more than ever, that it would be necessary to end this before the end came. It was cruel to tease the twins, he knew that, but it was going to take all of his willpower to stop himself.


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you drinking tea?” Falon stepped into Solas’s study, eyebrows raised. “You hate that stuff!”

Solas put his cup down, more than happy for the distraction. Normally Falon’s presence would prevent him from finishing with important work, but today he needed it. 

“How do you know that? I’ve never discussed such a thing with you.”

“Thamen told me.”

Now it was Solas’s turn to be surprised, “and how does Thamen know?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter? Something’s bothering you, that’s what’s important,” Falon dropped the subject and stepped closer to Solas’s desk, eyeing the books and notes strewn about as if they would give him some kind of answer.

“Last night…” Solas attempted to recount what he had seen, what he had felt, but he wasn’t entire sure Falon would understand. “I need a favor, if you are willing to indulge me.”

Falon grinned, “Hmm, indulging you? Not really a problem. Let’s go get Thamen, he’d kill me if we left him out.”

Solas shook his head and stood up, trying to keep from thinking of what Falon was prepositioning. Now was not the time, as enjoyable as it might be. It really would help distract him from last night, though.

“Not that kind of favor. You said we would be leaving for the Exalted Plains soon?” He turned to Falon, hoping the desperation he felt coursing through his body wasn’t visible. 

“Yes, that’s right.”

“My oldest friend has been captured by mages. Last night while in the Fade, I heard the cry for help.”

“Oh shit,” Falon frowned, “I’m sorry. We’ll rescue her… him…”

“It.”

“It. Right,” Falon nodded as if he understood, before realization struck, “Wait, ‘it’? That’s kind of rude, Solas.”

“It is a spirit of wisdom, who was dwelling quite happily in the Fade at the time. The mages ripped it from is tranquility, and it has called upon me to restore its freedom and return it to the Fade.”

“A spirt?” Falon’s eyes widened in surprise, and Solas sighed. Of course, he wouldn’t really understand. No one would, not unless they have seen the things Solas had seen in his travels.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but you must trust me that this spirit is-”

“Solas,” Falon cut him off, suddenly looking very serious. “Don’t worry, I understand completely. I’m a mage too, you know, even if I don’t really use magic. We’ll rescue your friend, spirit or not. Do you know why they might be keeping it?”

“They wouldn’t of had to summon it simply for wisdom, not for something they could have gotten from it by visiting it in the Fade. They must seek something it either cannot or is not willing to give. I fear they may torture it to get the information they need, which is why it is crucial we act soon.”

Falon nodded. “Alright, then. We’ll do that as soon as we can after we arrive in the Plains. Meet me in the War Room later, you can show me where you heard your friend on the map.”

Solas smiled, pleasantly surprised at how well that had gone over. Any other person might have called him crazy, told him spirits weren’t people and left Solas to deal with it on his own, he was sure. Falon and Thamen, they were different. Openminded and eager to learn anything Solas could offer them… If Solas didn’t know it was impossible, he might have thought himself in love.

* * *

“Thank you for this, Inquisitor. We are not far from where my friend was summoned,” Solas spoke up as they rushed towards the lake. Falon turned back and smiled, but said nothing.

Thamen, who was running by Solas’s side, responded for him, “It’s not a problem, Solas. Falon and I are always here for you, if you need help. Just remember that.” 

“Hey, wait. Can we stop for a moment?” Falon came to a halt and held his hand up for everyone to follow suit. Next to him was a dead body, clearly a mage.

“Killed by arrows, it would seem,” Solas pointed out, and Falon nodded.

Bull noted, “Probably bandits.”

Falon gave the body one more once over and sighed, “Shame, really. The Exalted Plains won’t ever not be dangerous.”

“Is that another one over there?” Thamen pointed ahead, where two bodies lied next to one another on the path. They were burnt to the point of being unrecognizable.

“Found the bandits, I think,” Falon knelt down next to one of the bodies and looked it over, wrinkling his nose as he did so. “Hard to tell. They’ve been burnt to a crisp, recently too. There’s claw marks all over them.”

“Dragon, maybe?” Thamen offered. 

Bull’s interest was visibly piqued, and he began to reach for his axe, “claw marks are too small to be a High Dragon, but it’s possible some adolescent dragons got to these guys after leaving their nest.”

“Let me see,” Solas cut through, looking over Falon’s shoulder at the body. Realization came to him in seconds. “No. No, no, no.”

“What?” Falon turned back to look at him.

“We must keep moving. Hurry.” Solas broke into a run down the path, followed by the rest of the party a few moments later. Already in the distance, he could see the summoning circle that was surely used to bind his friend, and could hear the telltale grunts and snarls of a pride demon. He could only hope his ears were deceiving him.

Seeing the demon with his own eyes dashed any hope he might have had, “my friend!”

“Fuck. That-… The mages turned your friend into a demon!” Falon gasped, as if it wasn’t obvious already.

“Yes,” Solas responded curtly.

“You said that it was a spirit of wisdom! That it wouldn’t fight or anything.”

“It has become a demon, it has been denied its original purpose!”

“So, what, they made it stop thinking about books? They tried to make it fight?”

Before Solas could respond to that, a mage stepped timidly out of the tall grass. He looked poised to fight, but as soon as he saw the Inquisitor’s party clearly, he relaxed.

“Let us ask them,” Solas snapped, glaring at the approaching mage.

It didn’t seem to deter him, “another mage! You’re not with the bandits? I don’t suppose you have any lyruim potions. We’ve been fighting that demon for Maker know how long now, all of us are exhausted.”

“You created that demon! You’ve corrupted a spirit of wisdom by forcing it to kill, twisting it against its purpose!” Solas was near boiling with rage at this point. How dare they do something like this! To his friend! Were Circle mages taught nothing of basic etiquette? How to commune properly with spirits?

“I-I-I understand, you might be a bit confused. You’ve clearly never studied these creatures in a Circle, and with everything going on, demons might seem frightening. After you help us, everything will be-”

“We are not here to help you,” Solas grit his teeth to keep from saying anything further to this imbecile.

Fortunately, Falon had him covered, “Are you stupid or something? Just keep your mouth shut and let the professionals work.”

“Professionals?” This mage had no idea when to stop, “I’ll have you know I was one of the foremost experts back at the Kirkwall Circle, I-”

“Shut. Up,” Solas snarled. “You summoned it to protect you from the bandits! That is why it is a demon, you’ve bound it and commanded it to kill.”

“Well-… yes.” At least he had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, but Solas was far to upset now to feel any sympathy for him.

He turned to the Inquisitor, “We must focus on the summoning circle. With that broken, there will be no orders to kill, no conflict, no demon.”

“But the binding-” The mage’s eyes widened in fear as he pleaded with Falon, but the elf wasn’t listening.

“You hear that, guys? Go for the rocks!” 

His friend would be freed after all, then. Solas knew the Inquisitor would see his side in this, he had studied magical rituals before. “Thank you.” 

The pride demon roared, slowly gaining strength as the mages’ attacks wore off. The mages that were still in the area ran away from the monster.

“We must hurry,” Solas yelled, and the party sprang into action before he could finish.

* * *

“And- done!” Falon managed to break the last binding stone with the hilt of his axe, and the demon tumbled to the ground. Thamen, who had been distracting it the whole time, groaned loudly.

“Oh Creators, thank you. I couldn’t keep that up any longer,” Thamen sighed, rubbing at his shoulder as he walked back to his brother.

Solas ignored the both of them, much more focused on the dying spirit sitting in the middle of the clearing. 

“Lethallin, ir abelas,” Solas crouched down in front of his friend, arms heavy with exhaustion and head spinning.

“Tel’abelas. Enasal. Ir tel’him,” it looked down at the crushed grass. “Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana mir din’an.” 

Solas closed his eyes, feeling utterly crushed. He had known this would happen, yet he had hoped with every bone in his body that, after the binding was stopped, his friend would be okay. It had been too good of an idea to be true.

“Ma nuvenin,” he bowed his head, and rose his hands. He felt his magic take hold of the spirt, and he watched it dissipate right before his eyes. He could feel his heart break, as well, if he focused. “Dareth shiral.”

It was Thamen who came to comfort him, still rubbing his pulled shoulder, “I… speak elvish, you know. A little bit. You really did help it, Solas.”

“And now I must endure,” Solas repeated his friend’s words, looking longingly upon the place his friend once knelt. 

“Falon and I, we’ll help. Just say the word, alright?” Thamen wrapped his uninjured arm around Solas’s shoulders and held him tightly, just for a moment.

“You already have,” Solas reassured, giving the twin the faintest hint of a smile. Thamen returned it with a broad one of his own.

“-and I have ten whole Qunari back at Skyhold who are all totally okay with running you over! Right, Bull?” Falon’s voice could be heard yards away clearly. He had been shouting at the mages who caused all this for some time, it seemed.

“Sure, Boss. Whatever you need,” Bull responded, though he likely didn’t understand the tragedy behind losing a spirit.

“We should go stop Falon before he rips the mages apart,” Thamen sighed, unwrapping his arm from Solas. “I’m assuming you want to be the one to do it?” 

Solas stood up and turned to the mages, who were all cowering as Falon continued with his long rant of just how dead they were going to be. Before Falon could finish his detailed explanation of what they would all look like inside out, Solas stepped over.

One very large fireball later, the mages were nothing more than ashes littering the rocky path.

“Nice,” Falon nodded.

“Damn them all,” Solas cursed. “I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold.” And with that, he walked off, towards the mouth of the river that ran through the Plains. Perhaps there he could find a peaceful place to sleep.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Solas rushed off to calm himself, and he was finally back at Skyhold. His arrival was met with little fanfare, per his request, and yet somehow Falon and Thamen knew as soon as he stepped through the gate.

They came rushing down the stairs, Falon at least attempting to act properly, being the Inquisitor and all, and Thamen nearly tripping on a few loose stones as he scurried down.

“Solas!” Thamen was out of breath by the time he reached Solas.

“Thamen, Inquisitor,” Solas greeted with a nod of his head.

“Are you… feeling any better?” Finally Falon arrived, looking at Solas with worry written all over his face.

“I will endure, as it has told me to. But it hurts.”

“We thought you weren’t going to come back!” Thamen exclaimed, “I thought you were dead. Falon knew you wouldn’t be, but I was so worried! More worried than Falon was, by the way.”

“That’s not true, I was worried! I’m just not some idiot who thinks Solas can’t handle being away for two weeks because I believe in his skills.”

“You’re just saying that because you want him to like you more.”

“He already likes me more.”

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

“Lavellan!” Solas shouted, managing to get both of their attention away from the foolish argument. He cleared his throat and continued, “I wanted to thank you both, for helping me. For being true friends.”

“‘Friends’?” Thamen whined. “Just friends? Both of us?”

“Oh shut up,” Falon scolded his brother, though it was quite obvious he was disappointed in the choice of words as well. He turned to Solas, “Where have you been?”

“I found a quiet place in the ruins and went to sleep. Once in the Fade, I visited the place my friend used to reside,” Solas sighed. “It is empty, of course, but there are strong stirrings of energy. I hope something new will grow there soon.”

“We’re sorry you had to kill your friend,” Thamen spoke up, still pouting. “But your friend might come back? If there’s energy there?”

“I am as well,” he bowed his head. “My friend will never come back, not really. Something similar may form, but I doubt it would remember me.”

“If you want, you can come be with us?” Falon shrugged, “you don’t have to mourn alone. We’re not doing a whole lot, just going through books we’ve found in our travels.”

“I… it’s been a long time. Since I could trust someone like I trust you both. I do believe the worst of the sadness has passed, however if you need help in organizing the books…”

They both smiled, simultaneously, and Falon spoke, “great. Come with us, then, we’re doing it in the secret library. Have you been there?”

Solas had been there, many times and many years ago, but he feigned ignorance on the existence of said library. The twins eagerly dragged him through the basement to the small room, where dozens of stacks of books were laid out around the floor.

The spent hours organizing the books by name and stuffing them into the already full shelves. Solas had never felt so free in his life. If he closed his mind, he could almost pretend something more was possible.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually super excited for this one. If you read the prompt, there are a lot of things to still be added, like smut and maybe a bit of actual romance??? Maybe, cause there really wasn't any in the canon Solas romance. 
> 
> I'll try to keep from writing too many conversations word per word, I'll probably only do it if there are romance options, but since I've never actually romanced Solas I can't tell you how many conversations that is off the top of my head. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll be good at keeping this updated frequently! At the moment, the plan is to update once a week, every Saturday, but I might do it more or less often depending on how excited I am by a chapter or if I'm busy or whatever. We'll see.


End file.
